The Loop
by Mr. Page
Summary: Gumball is having the worst day ever, and it's not ending there.  In fact, it's not ending at all!  Gumball is stuck in a time loop and if he ever wants tomorrow to come he has to get to the bottom of what's causing it.
1. A Mournful Morning

**The Loop**

An _Amazing World of_ _Gumball_ fanfic

by Mr. Page

**Hello, this is my very first fanfic EVER and I hope you all enjoy. And just to make this known, I'm not writing this to bash Gumball. I really like him as a character and thought this would be an interesting situation to have him experience.**

**For those who have seen "Groundhog Day", "Source Code", or played "The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask", this might ring a few bells.**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING of the **_**The Amazing World of Gumball**_**, including characters, places, or any other references that may appear in this story. Not a thing.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 1<strong>

_A Mournful Morning  
><em>

The first sound Gumball Watterson heard when he woke up was a loud, repeating, irritating buzz. With his eyes barely open, he let out a yawn as he climbed down from his bunk bed, walked to the desk and dropped his hand on the off button, silencing the alarm clock. The glowing green numbers read 6:20.

The blue 12-year-old cat stood for a few seconds in morning fatigue when he heard his door gently push open. His little sister stepped in, rubbing her tired eyes.

"Morning, Gumball," Anais said with a yawn.

Equally drowsy, he replied, "Morning, sis." Hearing his brother behind him, Gumball said, "Hey, Darwin."

"Morning, buddy." The goldfish stepped out of his fishbowl and onto a towel lying on the floor, letting the excess water drip off his orange skin.

For a few moments, silence filled the room as the Watterson siblings took their time waking up. Gumball stood with his back to the window, his shadow stretched on the carpet by the morning sunlight. His mind was somewhere between begging for his bed and wanting to move out the room, but he would wait until his little sister and brother were ready before going down to breakfast, just like he did each day.

His sluggish mind was rattled when a loud crash and thud came from behind.

Zipping around, Gumball moved closer to the window. Darwin and Anais followed his lead and gazed down to the sidewalk outside.

Larry, the Laser Video clerk, was on the concrete, very dizzy and groaning. A bicycle laid to the side and there appeared to be a few dents in the sides of Larry's box-like head.

"Poor Larry," said Gumball, watching the clerk slowly get up. "He's already having a tough day."

"He might not be the _only_ one," mentioned Anais.

"What do you mean?" asked Darwin.

"Nothing," Gumball said in annoyance.

"No, not nothing!" Anais stressed. "You broke one of Mom's good plates."

"You did?" asked Darwin, eyes wide. "When did that happen?"

Gumball let out a sigh between his worried brother and irritated sister. "Last night. I snuck a cookie and used one of Mom's small china plates and accidentally broke it down the middle."

"How did THAT happen?"

"It hit the edge of the counter while I was putting it back in the cupboard. But I caught the other half before it broke."

"Why would you use one of Mom's good china plates for a cookie?" asked Anais.

"They were closest things for me to use. I didn't want to make a mess and leave crumbs."

"Well, Mom's going to be mad. I told you last night to tell her before we all went to bed."

"Not to worry, sis," Gumball confidentially patted his sister's fuzzy pink head. "I fixed the plate and by now the glue is dry and Mom will never know the difference. Now, I better go put it away; I left it on top of the fridge. I'll see you all down at breakfast."

Gumball walked to the door, confidence ruling his smile until his sister spoke.

"She's going to find out!"

"Anais, don't worry. Everything will be fine."

* * *

><p>"How DARE you break one of MY good china plates for a COOKIE!" Nicole clenched her teeth, holding the broken plate in her hand.<p>

She had woken early and headed downstairs a little after the boys' alarm sounded. She remembered hearing a small clink last night before she and Richard went to bed but didn't bother checking until this morning. She felt in her gut that Gumball had something to do with it.

Her guess was not only correct but worse than she imagined. One of her best plates was not only broken, it had white glue all over the area where it cracked, leaving ugly marks that resembled dried saliva.

Gumball, fumbling with his hands and looking guilty, struggled to smile innocently, "I tried to fix it."

"How can you call **_this_** fixed?" Nicole angrily held the small plate up to her son's face. He grimaced at seeing how sloppy a job he did; the broken piece wasn't even properly lined up.

"My grandmother gave my mother these plates, and she gave them to me, trusting that I would take as much care of them as they did. I told you and the others how important it is to me that they be treated with care. So what do you have to say for yourself?"

Gumball winced at his mother's furious voice, feeling like an ant in the path of a steamroller. Sheepishly, he gave a weak laugh and tried to grin, "Well…at least that's not your only one."

Nicole gritted her sharp teeth. Sneering viciously, she breathed, "Go get dressed."

Gumball didn't linger for a second and ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs, feeling his mother's glare every step of the way.

Dressed in his favorite sweater and dark gray pants, Gumball strolled back downstairs to the dining room. Darwin and Anais were munching on some Daisy Flakes and both looked at him in a different way. Darwin smiled lightly to try to ease him. The goldfish figured this would happen; very little ever got by their mother without her knowing.

Anais was frowning, just like the hundred other times when her stupid big brother wouldn't listen to her.

Gumball quietly sat down and poured himself some cereal. His mother was staring firmly at him while chewing a piece of toast, making Gumball quite uncomfortable as he took his first few bites.

"HEY, everybody!"

Gumball and the others turned towards the living room where they heard the unmistakable sound of Richard's voice. The large pink rabbit came into the dining room with a big grin. "Good morning, family. Notice anything different?"

Richard held his arms out in expectation, but neither his wife nor his children noticed anything different about him. Apart from being the same overweight rabbit with chubby cheeks who dresses in a suit despite not having a job, there was nothing the family saw that was new or out of place.

"Oh, come on," Richard grinned eagerly, "you all must notice it."

Gumball looked to Darwin, who looked to him, who then looked to Anais, who looked to their mother. They all shrugged their shoulders.

Sighing with annoyance, Richard said, "My tie!"

Seeing that his family still couldn't understand, Richard finally explained, "I usually wear a dark gray tie. But this one is red."

Everyone, noticing the difference at last, responded, "Ohhhhhhhhh…"

"So," Richard smiled, "what do you all think?"

"Very lovely, dear," Nicole nodded.

"Yeah, awesome color," Darwin smiled.

"Very pretty," Anais commented.

Gumball asked, "What was wrong with your old tie?"

Richard's smile fell, and so did the mood in the kitchen.

"What's wrong with this tie?" Richard asked, his eyes starting to water.

Gumball, seeing his father's growing sadness, waved his hands, "No, nothing's wrong! I just thought maybe something happened to-"

"I just wanted to try something new! I thought it would look good!" Richard began to sob and ran out of the dining room, his large feet thumping as he went upstairs.

Gumball's mouth hung open at what just happened.

His mother glared at him, her fists tight, "First you break my plate and now you make fun of your father?"

"What? No! I didn't mean-"

"You know how your father feels about his appearance!" Throwing her toast to the table, she yelled, "Finish your breakfast and get ready for school!"

Nicole bitterly walked away to go after her husband, leaving Gumball to hang his head on what had been the start of a very bad morning.

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><p>After his teeth were brushed, Gumball was about to walk out the door when his mother approached from behind.<p>

"Don't think this is over, Gumball," said Nicole. "No TV, video games, or junk food when you get home."

"What? Oh, come on, Mom! You know I didn't mean it like that!"

"We'll discuss it later! Good day, Gumball!" And without a hug or a kiss, Nicole stomped past her son, slammed the door to her car, and drove off to work.

With a sigh, Gumball closed the front door and walked to the end of the block where his brother and sister were waiting.

Darwin was the first to board the school bus, and once on, Gumball heard him say, "Morning, Rachel," quite happily.

The colorful-haired girl warmly replied, "Hey, Darwin."

Gumball shook his head. Honestly, what Darwin saw in a grouch like Rachel he couldn't understand. Ever since that party, though, his best friend and her have been on very good terms. Who knew Rachel actually had a sweet side? And Gumball supposed he should be happy for Darwin; at least _he_ can express feelings to the girl he likes.

The rest of Gumball's classmates were there and accounted for. Passing the middle, Gumball shyly waved to Penny. Holding onto her white pom-poms, she waved back.

Gumball's memory drifted back to the night of Rachel's party and wished more than anything that he and Penny could've completed their kiss. If only his dad could've waited a few seconds longer before beeping the horn.

"Hey!" shouted Anais, snapping Gumball out of his daydream. "Will you quit trying to walk through me!"

Gumball found himself at the end of the bus and a very grumpy Anais in front with most of her face pressed against his sweater. Quickly he sat down next to her, embarrassment burning in his cheeks as a few of his classmates laughed up front.

"Oh, so NOW you decide to listen to me," Anais said irritably, her arms folded.

"What are you talking about?"

"Like you don't know."

"_No_, I don't," Gumball stressed. "So if you have something to say just say it. I'm listening."

"That's just it!" Anais shouted. "You don't listen to me at all! I told you mom would find out about the plate and she did! I tried to help you avoid trouble but you ignored me like you always do!"

"I tried to fix it."

"Oh, please! A blind man with arthritis could've done better than that!"

"Hey!"

"She does have a point, Gumball," said Darwin, hoping to add a little reason, as well as change the subject. "Not to mention, you did make fun of dad."

"No, I didn't! I just wondered if something happened to his other tie. I mean, how often do you see our dad do something that differs from his usual behavior?"

Neither Darwin nor Anais had an answer for that.

"You could've at least tried thinking before doing something stupid like you always do."

Gumball sighed. "Look, Anais, I'm sorry. Okay? I should've thought a little harder and I should've listened to you."

"You don't mean that," she said bitterly.

"Of course I do."

"No, you don't! You said that to me several times before!"

"You're exaggerating."

"See! You're not listening again! I remember you saying 'I should've listened to you' over 53 times!"

Gumball raised an eyebrow. "You remember exactly how many times I said that?"

Anais growled, and shouted, "You said that several times before, too!"

The pink bunny folded her arms and sat between her brothers, frowning bitterly and not talking for the rest of the ride. When they got to school, Darwin was the only one Anais said "bye" to as she walked away.

After grabbing their books and notes from their lockers, the two brothers headed to class.

"You know, you _should_ listen to her a little more," said Darwin.

"Hey, who's side are you on?"

"I just want you two to get along. You're brother and sister, after all."

"Well, we can be more 'brother and sister' when we get home and when she's less of a spaz!"

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><p>Gumball and Darwin were sitting in their desks at the front of the classroom, chatting along with the other kids until Miss Simian threw open the door, looking as old as when she first started teaching (centuries ago).<p>

"Class!" she shrieked, holding onto a stack of papers, "I've finished grading the reports for your science projects. Once again, only Bobert and Carmen got As!"

_Well, that figures_, Gumball thought to himself. _Those two _are_ science projects!_

Miss Simian drew the first paper from the pile and was about to hand it to Banana Joe when the intercom above the chalkboard sounded.

"Good morning, Elmore Junior High. This is Principal Brown."

Upon hearing the voice of her beloved Nigel, Miss Simian pulled back the paper and clung the rest to her heart, gazing affectionately up at the intercom.

"Today, as you all know," he spoke with excitement, "is our Pep Fest to wish our Mustangs victory as they head out to the semifinals, so bring your school spirit and lend your voices as our cheerleaders send them off!"

Gumball turned and looked lovingly towards Penny. He promised her last Friday he would shout the loudest for her as she and the others did their cheers.

"Our lunch menu today," Principal Brown continued, "is multigrain pasta with meat sauce, diced carrots, mixed fruit, and for dessert we have a special treat due to the Pep Fest: chocolate mint cake."

The entire menu sounded delicious, especially the last. While Gumball imagined the smooth icing of the chocolate and the fresh mint coupled together into a sweet slice of moist happiness, a small voice came from behind, "Chocolate mint cake?"

It was Carrie, and her white transparent face turned to Gumball with a wondering look.

Gumball knew exactly what she was thinking, but before he could state his mind, Principal Brown went on saying, "And don't forget, students, we're also having a little contest with prizes that I'll hand out at the Pep Fest. For anyone who wishes to enter, Mr. Small will be in the cafeteria at lunch. Anyone's welcome to enter; all you need to win is some luck.

"Best to you all and have a great day. **Gooooooo Mustangs**!" And with that, the principal's voice cut off with a beep.

Miss Simian let out a heartfelt sigh. After another inhale, her face went back to the bitter scowl her students knew her for. She gave Banana Joe his grade sheet and then slammed Gumball's onto the top of his desk, startling half the class. At the top, Gumball saw a large letter scratched in red ink.

"C, Watterson!" Miss Simian looked absolutely enraged that he received anything higher than a D. "Keep it up and you might actually set foot in college some day."

Gumball's eyes widened. Did Miss Simian actually compliment him? _Him_?

"And I mean as in _visiting_ a college, not attending one." Frowning, she moved to the next student.

Gumball glared at the ancient baboon, wanting badly to give her a piece of his mind. But, of course, he knew he couldn't, and for three reasons. First, it would guarantee him detention, and that might mean missing the Pep Fest, and _that_ would mean he would miss cheering for Penny. That was NOT an option. Second, despite how much he disliked Miss Simian and the horrible, malicious ways she treats him (and everyone else), he didn't have it in him to insult her like that. Chances are he would be cranky too if he was born back in the Mesozoic Era and could never ever retire from teaching.

And the third reason was because Darwin let out a loud gasp, catching everyone's attention. He held his grade sheet like it was a death threat.

"F?" Speechless, Darwin turned to his teacher, desperate for an explanation.

"You didn't turn in a science report," said Miss Simian.

"What! Yeah, I did! Me and Gumball worked on it together!"

"Well, his name was the only one I saw, so he was the one I graded!"

Darwin's horrified face dropped to his brother and changed to a very bitter frown. "You didn't include me in our report?"

"What!" Gumball, equally stunned, stammered, "No, no! I-I-I just handed it in so fast that I must've forgot!" Turning to his teacher, Gumball said, "Miss Simian, I'm sure you meant to give Darwin a better grade."

"I gave him the grade he earned."

"Oh, come on! You knew we were partnered together! That has to speak for itself!"

"All grades are final!" she shrieked. "If Darwin wanted credit for the report he should've made sure his name was on it when you turned it in!" Miss Simian continued to hand out the rest of the graded papers, leaving Gumball to feel ashamed.

"Darwin," he spoke softly. "I…I didn't mean-"

"Tell it to the F!" he snapped, slamming the grade sheet down on his brother's desk.

Darwin looked away, scowling, leaving Gumball with the failed grade over his own.

"Wow, dude," Banana Joe chuckled one desk over. "You really screwed up!"

Gumball sank lower into his seat, hearing a couple snickers from the other classmates. He let his face fall flat on his desk, groaning softly.

First his mom, then dad, then Anais, and now Darwin. It was only 8:00 and already his entire family was mad at him.

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><p>The morning classes were awful. As time rolled by, Darwin gave Gumball several unpleasant glares, causing the blue cat to shrink with depression.<p>

Gumball didn't think he could feel any worse until Miss Simian asked him to come to the front of the class.

"Watterson!" shouted the teacher. "Kindly tell the class the six Noble Gases." Miss Simian smiled with wicked glee at the hopeless cat.

"Uh…" Everyone waited for an answer that Gumball didn't have. Beads of sweat formed on his temples. Why, oh _why_ didn't he read the assignment last night?

"Uh…" Gumball knew his answers were going to be wrong, dead wrong, but in a split second, without even thinking, he blurted out the only ideas that came to mind, "Burps, farts, gas stations, bathrooms, fireplaces, Tina on Taco Tuesday!"

Everyone was silent, confused at the speedy response. A few seconds later, laughs erupted from the entire class (minus Tina who growled). Even Darwin was laughing hard.

Gumball's cheeks burned red. Hanging his head in humiliation, he went back to his desk.

"And that class," Miss Simian said smirking, "all the more proves that Gumball Watterson is a complete and hopeless idiot."

Gumball hid his face behind his arms, fighting the urge to cry as his classmates enveloped him with their soul-crushing laughs.

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><p><strong>And that was chapter 1. Chapter 2 should be up hopefully not too long.<strong>

**Sorry for the rough morning I gave Gumball, but it's necessary to set the stage for what's coming.**

**PLEASE, ****PLEASE**** review. I want to become a better writer, and there NO better way to improve than with feedback from the readers. Constructive criticism is welcome.**

**Have a nice day and thanks for reading!**


	2. From Bad to Worse

Hello, again! Here's the next part to this little story of mine. Once again, Gumball will be going through a rough time, but remember, I'm not against Gumball. I am merely setting up the story to where it will eventually lead.

Thank you for the reviews. I am very thankful and will do everything to make sure these chapters continue to please.

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING of _The Amazing World of Gumball_, including characters, places, or any other references that will appear in this story; not a thing.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 2<strong>

_From Bad to Worse_

After three hours of classes that seemed to drag on like a fishhook in the arm, lunch finally came. Gumball sat by himself at a table across from Darwin who was with Rachel at the farther end of the cafeteria, and every time they noticed the blue cat looking towards them, they gave a firm, furious glare in return. The sight of it alone was enough for the food on Gumball's tray to turn bland.

Gumball rested his head on his palm, watching Mr. Small who was seated behind a portable desk near the lunch line. On the floor next to the smiling guidance counselor was a 10 gallon water bottle crammed to the top with dark black coffee beans. A large sign hung from the desk, reading,

GUESS THE NUMBER OF COFFEE BEANS AND WIN A PRIZE AT PEP FEST!

And directly beneath, a message in small print read,

_(but remember, no matter what, we're all winners!)_

Gumball scoffed. _He_ certainly didn't feel like a winner.

Lifting his fork, Gumball cut a piece of his chocolate mint cake and let the moist dessert sit in his mouth, treating his tongue to whatever the sugar could bring. It was good, but not anywhere near as pleasant as he dreamt this morning.

A few tables away, Gumball saw Penny chatting with Masami and Molly. Smiling softly, Gumball closed his eyes, wishing that time would skip to the Pep Fest. All he wanted to do now was cheer for the girl he loved.

Within seconds, Penny enveloped every corner of his thoughts and for an instant he felt some peace, but it all vanished when a voice made itself known.

"Hey, Gumball." The voice sounded as gloomy as him.

Swallowing his piece of cake, he opened his eyes and responded, "Oh, hi, Carrie."

The ghost girl was holding a plate with the sweet dessert.

"I can see you're not in the mood, but…can you please help me eat this slice of cake?"

Gumball's downcast eyes moved to the chocolate covered slice with the emerald green layer. It was quite a large piece; much bigger than his own.

He took no time to think it over. "No, Carrie. I'm not doing that again." The unpleasant memories of that horrible week when the ghost girl used him as a puppet so she could eat were something he wished he could forget, much like this morning.

Carrie's saddened face went unnoticed to Gumball who turned the other away. "Gumball, please," she begged softly. "I've been —"

"Yeah, Carrie," he stressed with annoyance. "I know you're hungry and you want to eat like the rest of us, but that's something I don't want to be put through again."

"But," Carrie looked to her slice of cake, "Gumball…."

Irritated, he asked, "Why not have someone _else_ do it for you?"

"Well…" Carrie blushed, "because you —"

"Forget it. As you noticed, I'm _not_ in the mood." And without giving Carrie's expression even a glance, Gumball stood up, grabbed his unopened milk carton, and walked out of the cafeteria.

And Carrie, bowing her miserable face, took the fork, cut a piece from her cake and tried to bite it, but the delicious treat dropped straight through her mouth and onto the floor.

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><p>Gumball trudged down the empty hallway to his locker.<p>

He muttered, "Stupid Carrie." This day was bad enough, he didn't need any ghost making a blimp out of him.

After the bell rang, Gumball watched his classmates walk on by and enter the library. At the entrance, he came face to face with a sign written in large black letters:

**NO FOOD OR DRINK PERMITTED**

Holding his sealed milk carton, Gumball opened the door. _I'll be careful_.

Everyone was busy going about study hall and Gumball began browsing for a thesaurus to help him with a writing assignment. Walking amongst the many tall bookshelves, he opened the tiny white carton and drank a quick sip when, all of a sudden, his foot slipped on a book lying on the floor.

Unable to catch himself, Gumball stumbled to the ground and his milk carton flew across to Bobert who was typing at a computer a few feet away. The milk carton splattered against the monitor, soaking it and a flash-drive in the white fluid. Bobert's one black eye grew massive in shock as the screen darkened and crackled with sparks. The monitor started to shake and a small explosion launched it into the air with tremendous force.

Teri, Molly, and Masami were seated at a nearby table when they heard the loud bang, distracting them from their art project: a long miniature model of the Great Wall of China. They saw Bobert's horrified digital expression fall towards them when — BANG — the monitor crashed onto the table, crushing their project. In horror of their ruined work, the three girls watched as the monitor continued to skid across the table. Leslie and Carmen, distracted from their history paper, watched the monitor zoom by, leaving behind a trail of sparks that ignited their paper in an orange flame. The two plants could do nothing but back away in terror as their project was eaten by the hot fire.

Finally, the monitor crashed hard into a bookshelf, causing it to tip. Gumball, having witnessed the whole calamity unfold, looked on in dread as the shelf created a domino effect, knocking over every shelf in its path, toppling a hundred books to the floor.

Tobias, Banana Joe, Juke, and Tina stood behind the last shelf, perplexed and wondering what the sound was and why it was getting louder. Their confused expressions turned to shock and screams as the shelf beside them tipped and fell atop them.

The whole library stood still. Gumball, still lying on the floor from when he tripped, winced at the many furious looks directed towards him.

In his smallest voice, he managed to say, "Sorry."

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><p>The next thing Gumball knew he was thrown into Principal Brown's office with some of his classmates.<p>

"Well, Mr. Watterson," said Principal Brown, his brow furrowed, "I don't suppose you have anything to say for yourself?"

Gumball, biting down on his lip, nervously shook his head.

"You destroyed a school computer, scratched and burned one of the library tables, knocked over 13 bookshelves, spilt over 900 books, and sent FOUR students to the nurse's office!" Principal Brown pounded his fist on the last.

"Not to mention the art project you DESTORYED!" Masami thundered, darkening with rage. Molly and Teri, equally angry, slammed the crushed remains of their Great Wall to Gumball's feet.

"And the history paper me and Leslie spent FIVE WEEKS making!" Carmen screamed, shaking her thin arms. Leslie looked so mad that Gumball swore he was starting to grow thorns.

"And the highly complex theoretical algorithm I've been working on since the day I was MANUFACTURED!" Bobert yelled. Even with a digital voice Gumball winched at the anger.

Gumball tried to speak, but nothing would come out but small gasps. It was as though the nightmarish atmosphere that surrounded him on this day was choking him.

Then, Principal Brown pulled something out from behind his desk and Gumball's eyes widened at the sight of it.

It was the empty milk carton.

"The library strictly prohibits food and drinks. The sign outside the door states that clearly! Because of your irresponsibility, you have cost this school money and caused trouble and pain for your classmates!

"I'll ask you again, Mr. Watterson," he said the name like it was something dreadful to acknowledge. "Do you have ANYTHING to say for yourself?"

For a couple of moments the blue cat sat in a very uncomfortable silence, racking his brain for anything that would help him form an explanation. But no thought whatsoever could emerge with the stress he was under, and any excuse he had probably wouldn't convince the principal. The idea of trying to blame the whole incident on a book that was lying on the library floor sounded ludicrous and embarrassing, even to Gumball.

With nothing to say, all he could do was look at the floor in shame.

"I see…," said Principal Brown. "I think detention until the end of the year will suffice."

"WHAT?" Gumball shrieked. "Until the end of the year?"

"And we'll start today during the Pep Fest."

Gumball's face twisted with horror and his chest felt like it had just been stabbed. "But-but I promised Penny I would be there to cheer her on!"

Unmoved by the cat's desperation, Brown replied "Well, it looks like she's going to have to do without."

"Principal Brown, please! Just this one time, every day afterwards, I'll do whatever you —"

"Enough, Mr. Watterson!" he shouted. "You're lucky I don't expel you for all that's happened! Come STRAIGHT here when the classes go to the gymnasium or I promise this WILL be your last day in school."

Gumball's heart couldn't have ached any harder. The Pep Fest was the chance to see Penny perform her cheer routine: the one last thing he had that kept this day from becoming the worst of all time. And now that too was taken from him. He had to use all his might to keep himself from crying.

* * *

><p>With a broken spirit, Gumball returned to class to finish up the rest of the day. He was far too miserable to pay attention to anything Miss Simian said, nor did he care about it in the least. And adding to it, he was uncomfortable. Being up front in the classroom didn't keep him from feeling the vicious glares of his classmates, aimed at him like sniper rifles.<p>

Gumball didn't dare look at Penny, not wishing to be reminded of the promise he was soon going to break. The only person he turned to was Darwin, who he hoped by now would've eased up. But no; his frown remained as sour as it did this morning.

Recess was lonely. With everyone angry for what happened in the library, all Gumball had to pass the time was sit on a bench, listening to the sounds of traffic pass by in intervals.

The minutes dragged on like a busted knee, and when the time for Pep Fest finally came Gumball walked glumly to the Principal's office. Inside, Principal Brown was waiting.

"Nice to see you didn't forget, Mr. Watterson."

The furry principal stood up and pointed his finger to a corner of the office.

"Sit in that chair until I come back. Touch anything or leave and I'll drop you back to the first grade."

Forlorn and silent, Gumball complied and sat down in a chair far too small for someone his age. He watched Principal Brown pick up a cardboard box from behind his desk and then walk out the door, hearing a loud clack as it closed.

All alone in the dim office, Gumball's thoughts returned to this morning: back when he believed everything would go fine, and how _everything_ went terribly wrong.

He felt a stomach-aching mix of sadness, bafflement, anger, and disappointment, and though he tried and tried, nothing in his mind could make sense of any of it. What frustrated him the most was that he didn't mean for any of it. He never meant to break his mother's good plate, he never meant to hurt his dad's feelings, he never meant for Anais to be mad at him or forget to include Darwin's name on their report. Or be stupid in class. Or trip in the library…. All of it just happened. There was no way of predicting it.

So why did a fraction of himself feel the opposite? _Why_?

The dead silence of the office added to the deep emptiness Gumball felt in his gut. As the minutes rolled by, he could hear faint cheering coming from the gymnasium and wondered how Penny was doing. Would she even notice that he wasn't there? If she did would it effect her routine? He prayed that neither would be true, but there was a problem. He told Penny face to face that he would cheer for her. He promised her. Knowing that caused Gumball to groan, letting his face fall into his hands with nothing more to think of.

* * *

><p>It felt like 12 hours instead of only one when the last bell of the day rang. Gumball brought his sight up from his hands and anxiously waited for Principal Brown to return. His foot tapped vigorously at the racket of hurried feet and lockers opening and slamming. The day was over and Gumball couldn't have been more thankful.<p>

The instant the door opened and the principal walked in, Gumball jumped off the chair and shouted, "Can I go?"

"Yes, yes, Mr. Watterson," he said. "I expect to see you in here tomorrow at recess."

"Okay, thanks!" Gumball rushed out of the office and passed the students heading for the buses. At that moment, Gumball didn't care whether or not he lost his recess privileges for the entire year. All that mattered was the girl waiting in the gym.

When Gumball reached the gymnasium doors, he pushed them open and let out a gasp from running so hard. His eyes darted around the wide inactive area and found Penny sitting alone on the lower bleachers.

Slowly, Gumball walked up to her. She was hanging her head, her white pompoms by her side. Nervously, Gumball spoke, "H-Hi, Penny."

The antlered peanut looked up from the floor and her sad eyes met Gumball's guilt-ridden face. The blue cat opened his mouth to speak but Penny beat him to the punch. "I see you finally showed up."

In all sincerity, Gumball said, "I'm so sorry, Penny. I didn't mean —"

"To break your promise?"

"Well…" Gumball lowered his head, "yeah."

"I can't believe you would do that," Penny frowned and stood up. "When I didn't see you here I lost all the spirit I had. I had to fake my whole way through the Pep Fest."

"Penny, I'm sorry! I thought about being here all day. There was _nothing_ else I wanted to do but cheer you on! Everything just…" Gumball paused, lowered his head in guilt, and sighed, "Everything…just went wrong…."

Penny let out a sigh of her own, and flatly said, "I understand."

Gumball could tell she was lying. "Penny," his eyes trembled, "I would never —"

"Look," she stopped him, "I have to go join Carmen, Molly, and Teri. The game will be starting in a few hours and we have to prepare."

She then walked past him, her face filled with disappointment. "I'll see you tomorrow." She opened the door and walked away without looking back, leaving Gumball alone as the gymnasium lights started to dim.

* * *

><p>Approaching the school's exit, Gumball wiped away a tear that managed to break free. Outside, shock filled his system him as he saw the bus begin to drive off.<p>

"Hey!" Gumball ran through the school parking lot. He could see his brother and sister through the bus' back window.

"Darwin! Anais!" he screamed. "Stop the bus!"

Panting, he saw his siblings turn and look down at him. He waved to them, "Stop the bus!" But they only frowned and turned away. Within seconds, Gumball was far behind and stopped moving as the bus drove on and out of sight.

He stood looking where the bus disappeared, his chest hurting from more than just the strain he put it through.

His own brother and sister…they ditched him….

* * *

><p>Gumball moved down the sidewalk, finding no joy in anything he saw.<p>

The sky was blue with feathery transparent clouds, the sunshine was just right; the weather was perfect for the game tonight, but for Gumball it could've been raining candy and it wouldn't change his mood in the slightest.

When he reached the front door of his house, Gumball planned on watching some TV to drown away his misery, regardless of what his mom said this morning. Upon entering, he found Darwin and Anais already sitting on the couch.

Timidly, he walked up to them and, with all the pleasantness he could show, said, "Hey, guys. Can I join?"

Darwin and Anais both grumbled, not taking their irritated looks away from the TV. Needing no other answer than that, Gumball decided to head upstairs. He would spend the rest of the afternoon alone in his room until it was time for dinner.

No sooner did he reach his bed he heard a voice that shook the house.

"GUMBAAAAAAAAAALL!" His mother's voice sent fear directly into his heart.

With hesitation, terror in every breath, Gumball walked down to the living room and found his whole family grouped together. For a moment, no one said anything as Gumball nervously looked from one angry face to the next.

Finally, his mother spoke, "Gumball," her voice was like a knife, "when I was at work today, Principal Brown gave me a call."

At those words, Gumball's heart felt like it received a very hard pinch.

"He told me that you were given detention for the rest of the year." Her sharp teeth were bared, "Why, may I ask, would he do that?"

Gumball was terrified. He could barely breathe let alone talk.

"ANSWER ME!" she roared, her fists clenched.

Wincing, Gumball shook with fear, "I…I kinda…wreaked some things in the library."

"WREAKED?" she screamed. Gumball fell backwards onto the floor, terror building in his stomach. "You call $1200 in school damage 'wreaked'? You're lucky you weren't expelled for what you did!"

Standing up, Gumball said weakly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to —"

"Don't bother!" she snapped. "NOTHING excuses you for what you did, and if you don't face responsibility I swear detention will be the _least_ of your troubles! UNDERSTAND?"

Nicole breathed in and out like a beast, scaring Gumball even more.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND!"

Raising his hands, he cringed, "Yes! Yes!"

"Now get upstairs! No supper tonight."

"What?" Gumball didn't think his mother would go that far. Gaining back a little pride, he remarked, "What, you're gonna starve me?"

"NOOOOOOOW!" Nicole roared, scaring even those behind her. Her face had lost most of its blue color and was now red like fire.

Gumball ran with all his might up to his room, pushing the door closed behind him. Breathing hard, he looked around his bedroom. It was dim except for the afternoon sunlight progressing to evening. Facing the light, Gumball's mind reeled through everything since this morning.

The Plate. The Tie. The Bus. The Grade. The Question. The Library. The Pep Fest. Penny. The Bus again. Home again. All of it fell on top of each other.

Gumball sank to his knees, tears soaking his cheeks. And with that, he fell to the floor and sobbed into the carpet.

* * *

><p>The sunlight faded into night and Gumball noticed nothing of the change. He was still face down on the floor, barely breathing. His tortured mind refused to let him rest.<p>

Unexpectedly, the door to his room opened. It was Anais.

Looking up, Gumball wiped his wet, burning eyes. "Yes?"

"Here," Anais held out a paper plate with a small sandwich. "Mom changed her mind, she doesn't want you to go hungry."

Accepting the plate, Gumball looked to his little sister, almost confused at this act of kindness. "You've been up here for five hours. Everyone is tired and going to bed."

Gumball, too hungry to be surprised about the time, stood up and took a large bite from the sandwich. It wasn't amazing, but it did fill the empty space in his stomach that was quick in rearing its ugly head.

"Thanks."

"Yeah, whatever," Anais rolled her eyes. "This doesn't change anything, though. I'm still mad at you."

Gumball could only sigh. Then his mind went off subject. "Did our school's team win?"

Before Anais could speak, Darwin appeared in the doorway. In anger, he responded, "They lost."

"Lost?" Gumball asked. "How could they lose? Weren't they were on a winning streak?"

"Yeah," his brother frowned, "but the cheerleaders didn't do so well. The announcer said they were 'lacking spirit'." Darwin crossed his arms, "Any ideas why?"

Gumball was stunned. The cheerleaders were still upset from what happened at the library? Penny was still upset? And the team lost as a result?

"I hope you're happy," Darwin scolded.

The tears came back along with all the sorrow. Throwing the empty paper plate to the ground, Gumball shouted, "Just leave me alone!" Rushing out into the hall, he stopped and turned around, facing his siblings. "I didn't ask for any of this!"

In the bathroom, Gumball carelessly brushed his teeth, not bothering to floss. Once out, he passed Anais' bedroom, unaware that his little sister was watching him through the crack of her door.

Discarding his sweater and pants, Gumball dressed into his nightshirt and climbed up to his bed, searching for comfort on the cool blankets. But it was useless. Nothing about today was comforting, not even as it was ending. Closing his eyes, Gumball's tears were still leaking through.

He just wanted it to be over. _He_ wanted to be over. He was sick of everything; everything about himself.

Slowly, his senses drifted off. He never saw his mother peek in and look at his grief-stricken face. He never saw her gently close the door or heard her sigh.

* * *

><p><strong>And that's that for Chapter 2. Chapter 3 should, hopefully, not take too long. The REAL story starts next.<strong>

**Once again, please review. Any advice is welcome, whatever it may be.**

**Thank you for reading and have a nice day!**


	3. Rise to Recur

**Here's Chapter 3! Sorry about the rough treatment Gumball was put through, but it was all for what's coming next, as well as for what will be seen in the following chapters. Things won't necessarily get easier for Gumball, but things probably won't be as bad as what happened in the last chapter — Heaven forbid!**

**TonyOctober 2.0, the red vox, YprocKcid, killer365, and GalaticDragonfly: Thank you all SO MUCH for the reviews. The comments and suggestions really inspire me to continue.**

**Also, one more thing. Given that there's been more drama than comedy in this story, I have decided to change the story's genre from Fantasy-Comedy to Fantasy-Drama. But needn't worry, I still plan on including a few laughs from time to time.**

**Gumball's thoughts will be in **_italics_.

**DISCLAIMER: ****I OWN NOTHING**** from **_**The Amazing World of Gumball**_**, including characters, places, or any other references that may appear in this story; not a thing.**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 3<strong>

_Rise to Recur_

When Gumball heard the repeating buzz of the alarm clock the following morning, he grimaced while keeping his eyes shut.

He had woken from a silent dream where there was nothing but black, not a speck of light anywhere, and he couldn't feel a single thing. It was as though he were nonexistent while being aware of it, and he wished dreadfully he could've remained in the floating abyss for a few minutes longer, just to keep from the reality he knew he was stuck in. But as he wearily opened his eyes and saw the top of his bedroom ceiling, he knew it was useless trying to ignore the clock's irritating cry.

With a groan, Gumball pushed off his blankets and climbed down from the bunk bed. He went slowly, his mind spinning with thoughts from the terrible day he had lived through. Though he felt some improvement, the misery wasn't totally dead. It was kind of like a stubbed toe: over and done with but still sensitive with a heap of pressure.

After putting the alarm clock back into its own kind of sleep, and observing the time as 6:20, Gumball dragged his feet to the middle of the room where the sunshine emitted through the window into a small yellow square on the floor. The light was just as soft and bright as yesterday, and as far as Gumball could tell, the sky looked just as blue out of the corner of the window pane.

Hearing his door open, Gumball turned around and saw Anais walk in, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

With a soft yawn, his little sister said, "Morning, Gumball."

He didn't answer at first, but then chose to mumble, "Morning." The softness in his sister's voice gave him slight relief. _Sleep must've calmed her down_, he thought._ That's nice…._

He then turned around to Darwin who began stirring in his fishbowl. Given everything that happened yesterday, Gumball didn't expect his brother to be happy or smile, let alone at him.

But he did. "Hey, buddy." The goldfish's grin was genuine, not in any way forced. Gumball, though thankful, thought it weird how quickly Darwin turned his attitude around, especially with how angry he had been.

He chose to shrug it off as a hopeful sign of good luck and walked out the door. His eyes and face most likely needed a good splash from all the crying he did, and he had every intention of being awake to deal with whatever anger he would meet today at school.

Halfway to the bathroom, Gumball stopped in mid-step when he thought he heard a noise. It sounded like a crash, but it was too soft to have come from in the house. _Must've been from outside…_, he thought before moving on.

Gumball stood over the bathroom sink, cupped his hands and gently splashed a little cool water into his face, rubbing it into his fur as the remainder of his sleepiness dripped down the drain. Looking in the mirror, he expected to see the aching red eyes that come from hours of crying.

To Gumball's surprise, his eyes were white; not a single blood vessel was swollen or tear duct inflamed. He felt no pain in either of them; his eyes were perfectly fine.

* * *

><p>Downstairs, Gumball walked into the kitchen and pulled the carton of milk out of the fridge. He gave off a light shudder as his fingers gripped the cardboard side, thinking back to how much trouble the simple liquid had caused him. Placing the milk at the dining room table, he walked back to the cupboards and grabbed the box of Daisy Flakes. Before he could reach for the bowls and spoons, his mother walked in, dressed in her pink robe, and looking none too happy.<p>

"Gumball!" she said firmly.

_Ah, no. She's still mad_? Gumball thought, turning hesitantly. _I guess it will take more than a day to make her forget_.

Before Gumball could utter a syllable, his mother shouted, "How DARE you break one of MY good china plates for a COOKIE!" Nicole held up the ruined dish in her hand.

Gumball paused. His eyebrows fell with a look of confusion, "Huh?"

"I said, my plate!" Nicole stressed, her cheeks turning lightly red. "Look at it! It's broken and covered in glue! It's not even lined up right!"

Gumball looked, but couldn't see anything he didn't notice yesterday. The plate was, indeed, broken and appeared quite sticky, but if his memory was accurate, didn't his mom throw the plate away?

"My grandmother gave my mother these plates," Nicole spoke heatedly, "and she gave them to me, trusting that I would take as much care of them as they did. And I told you and the others how important it is to me that they be treated with care." Clenching her fist, she bitterly let out, "Now what do you have to say for yourself?"

At the moment, Gumball could do nothing but stare. His mom had already reprimanded him for this so why was she doing it again? Wasn't she more angry about the incident at the school's library?

"Well?" Nicole spoke with increased anger. "What do you have to say?"

Gumball raised his arms in confusion. "I'm…aware of all that?"

Nicole's eyes widened for a brief moment, clearly not expecting such a casual tone from her son. When her brow fell again, she gritted her teeth and replied, "Go get dressed."

Gumball did as he was told and began walking out of the kitchen, all the while presenting his mom with an awkward face.

"And don't you give me that funny look!" she shouted, dropping the plate in the garbage bin.

Rushing upstairs, Gumball passed Darwin who looked sympathetic and Anais who sported one of those 'I told you so' frowns.

In his bedroom, Gumball thought, _That…was weird_. Shaking his head of it, he dressed out of his night shirt and into his favorite tan sweater and dark gray pants — both he could've sworn he left lying on the bottom bunk bed last night. But instead, he found them hanging in the closet like they had been the previous morning.

* * *

><p>Gumball joined his siblings and mother back downstairs to eat breakfast, and when he sat down at the table, the blue cat couldn't help but notice that everyone appeared in a much better mood compared to last night. Apart from his mother shooting a glare of annoyance, nobody looked furious. In fact, Gumball couldn't sense the slightest hint of what he felt yesterday evening in any of his family members; it was as though they truly left it in the past.<p>

With this unexpected behavior, Gumball felt that perhaps a little hope was shining for him. _Maybe this day will bring a few changes…._ He would just have to wait and see….

Gumball took a few bites of Daisy Flakes, enjoying the calm atmosphere at the table when his father suddenly appeared around the corner. He was wearing his new red tie.

"HEY, everybody!" The large pink rabbit came into the dining room with a big grin. "Good morning, family. Notice anything different?" His arms were held out, waiting.

Again, Gumball felt confusion take a jab at his brain, and this time he couldn't ignore it. He looked to his siblings for an explanation, but his brother and sister both appeared genuinely clueless. Even his mother, chewing a piece of buttered toast, looked puzzled.

"Oh, come on," Richard grinned eagerly, "you all must notice it."

Gumball shook his head. This was only funny the first time, but since his dad was…well, his dad, he decided to play along for the sake of his happiness. "Dad, come on. Stop making them guess."

"Oh, okay," Richard laughed. "My tie!"

Gumball humbly nodded, turning to the others whom he expected to grin with this second act. But still, they held to their quiet bewilderment, not looking a tad enlightened.

Richard explained, "I usually wear a dark gray tie. But this one is red."

"Ohhhhhhhhh," Gumball heard his family say.

"So, what do you all think?" asked Richard.

"Very lovely, dear," Nicole nodded.

"Yeah, awesome color," Darwin smiled.

"Very pretty," Anais commented.

_What are they doing_? Gumball thought, now totally baffled._ Do they think this is funny_?

"Well, Gumball?" Richard asked. "What do you think of my new tie?"

Gumball, slightly annoyed, lifted an eyebrow. "Dad, you can hardly call it 'new'."

Like yesterday, his father's smile fell and his eyes started to water. "What's wrong with this tie?"

The blue cat groaned with irritation, "Like I said once before, NOTHING'S wrong with it, but there's no need to show it off twice in a row."

"Twice?" said Richard, sadder than before. "What are you talking about? I just wanted to show my new tie!"

Gumball sat dumfounded as his dad, once again, ran out of the dining room, sobbing. His heavy footsteps were heard heading upstairs.

Gumball looked to his mother, expecting an answer to what was obviously a prank. Instead, there was a furious face.

"How dare you make your father feel that way!" said Nicole, utterly serious. "He tries out something new and you discourage him! Why would you do that?"

"All right, THAT'S IT!" Gumball stood up and threw down his spoon, startling his family. "WHAT is going on here? I understand if you're all still mad about yesterday but that's no reason to mess with my head!"

Taken aback by her son's tone, Nicole asked, "What are you talking about, Gumball?"

"Oh, like I need to ask, Mrs. Detention-will-be-the-Least-of-Your-Troubles!" Gumball crossed his arms. The memory of his mom's fury last night burned in his head like a scar and expected it to bring this cruel prank to an end.

His mom stared at him like _he_ was the one pulling a prank.

"Enough," Nicole shook her head. "I don't know what's gotten into you this morning but I don't have time for it. Finish your breakfast and get ready for school. I need to get going to work and I don't want to worry about your sanity."

Gumball's mouth dropped, but his mother paid no attention as she walked out of the dining room and headed upstairs to get dressed and comfort the crying Richard.

* * *

><p>Nicole drove down the street past her three children as they stood by the bus stop outside their house. Gumball was standing in the middle and too distracted by perplexing thoughts to notice the glare of annoyance from his little sister.<p>

Something very weird was going on. Both his mother and father were acting strangely. It's predictable of his father, but his mother? No, certainly not. Weren't they still angry about all the accidents he caused? And what about Darwin and Anais?

Not forming any sort of answer, Gumball slid a hand down his face, fearing this was going to be _another_ one of those days.

The school bus pulled up and Gumball allowed his sister and brother to go ahead of him. He had to take a deep breath before this next step, which he knew was going to be a big one. Half to all of his classmates will be, without a doubt, hating him due to everything that happened; he could practically feel it out on the sidewalk. Whether it was a crushed project, an injury by bookshelf, a broken promise or some other unpredictable mishap, they were sure to shower him with blame.

_And they'll probably blame me for our school losing the game last night, too_, Gumball thought grimly.

"Well," he said with no excitement, "here's to the start of another day." And with that, he stepped aboard the school bus.

When his classmates took notice of him, Gumball braced himself for the impact of razor-sharp glares. _Here it comes_, Gumball thought anxiously.

A moment passed, and not a single student threw anything that would surely kill him if looks could. There were no mean whispers, no groans of disgust, no fists clenching anything while imagining it was Gumball's neck. They just went back to talking. Though it was hard to believe, everyone truly appeared calm.

Darwin, who had waited for him, smiled when Gumball came aboard and went on to his seat, saying "Morning, Rachel" when he passed her.

"Hey, Darwin," she replied warmly.

Gumball frowned. Something about that exchange of hellos made him feel odd…though he didn't understand why.

He went on down the bus aisle at a slow pace, darting his sight from left to right to spot that one spark of anger he knew must be hiding somewhere. When he approached where Penny was seated, his mind reeled back to the disappointment he caused her, and in doing so, felt his stomach cringe. Surely _she_ was still mad. Penny may be kind and understanding (thank all the goodness in the world), but even she gets angry.

But to Gumball's surprise, and delight, she smiled warmly and waved her white pom-pom his way. Gumball, at a loss to this miraculous act of forgiveness, waved back.

_Why does she have her pom-poms_? he thought. _There can't be cheer practice today, not if our team lost the game_.

Walking on, Gumball noticed Tobias and Banana Joe chatting while apparently trying to see who could make the best armpit fart. They, like Tina and Juke he noticed up front, didn't have the slightest sign of injury from the bookshelf that fell on top of them. Curious, Gumball stopped and said, "Hey guys," getting their attention. "How are you two feeling?"

Tobias and Banana Joe looked at each other awkwardly. Slowly, they said, "Fine…."

Gumball lifted an eyebrow. "Really? You guys healed that fast?"

"What are you talking about, dude?" asked Tobias, who was clearly not on the same page.

"Uh…n-nothing. Sorry…never mind."

Joining his brother and sister in the back seat, Gumball was even more confused than before. Something was _definitely_ wrong here, he was certain of it now. Why was everyone treating him so well? Weren't they still furious about everything? Why didn't anyone seem to —

"It's your fault, you know," said Anais.

Snapped out of his thinking, Gumball asked, "What?"

"You should've listened to me and just told Mom that you broke the plate when you still could."

Gumball didn't know whether it was due to a bump the bus drove over or his own shock, but his mouth fell open like a door with a broken latch.

Noticing the expression, Anais added, "And playing dumb won't change anything."

"I'm not playing dumb!"

"Oh, _sure_ you not," she said sarcastically.

"Yeah, Gumball," Darwin gently agreed. "And what about dad?"

"What do you mean?"

"You totally dissed him," Darwin explained. "He just wanted to show us his new tie. There's nothing wrong with that."

"I never said there was!"

"Then why did you say —"

Gritting his teeth, Gumball exploded, "BECAUSE HE SHOWED US THAT TIE **YESTERDAY**!"

Anais and Darwin jumped at this outburst, alarmed and confused as their brother shook, fuming and sneering.

"Quiet down back there, Gumball," Rocky's voice came from over the bus' speakers. Looking down the bus, Gumball's irritation melted from his face when he found that he caught the attention of everyone on board. Sinking back behind the seat occupied by Carrie, he saw his brother and sister stare at him strangely.

"What?"

"What are you talking about?" Darwin asked with worry.

"I'm talking about _yesterday_," Gumball stressed, keeping his voice to a dull roar.

"What about yesterday?" asked Anais.

Gumball clenched his fists and had to force himself from sounding more annoyed than he truly was. "Dad came downstairs wearing his new red tie and I asked if anything happened to his old one, and then he got upset and then Mom got mad. That's how Monday started out!"

Anais and Darwin looked at each other and back again to their brother. Both appeared at a loss of what to say.

"Gumball," Anais said with concern, "_today_ is Monday."

The sentence entered Gumball's ears and seemed to coat his brain like a blanket of biting frost.

"What?" he said, totally speechless.

"Didn't you hear me?" Anais shot with annoyance. "_Today_ is _Monday_!"

* * *

><p>When Gumball arrived at school and went to Miss Simian's classroom, he was far too confused with what Anais had said to pass the time chatting with Darwin. He stared blankly up at the chalkboard as though it were forming messages by itself and he alone was left to question what the whole message was and why it was happening in the first place.<p>

_It couldn't_, Gumball thought to himself. _It can't be Monday. _Yesterday _was Monday. So, therefore, it's Tuesday._

Gumball thought that over and over, but since the moment he woke up, there have been contradictions popping up that he simply couldn't ignore. Why was everyone in his family repeating the same behavior as the morning before? Why were those who were hurt yesterday in the library smiling and chatting without the smallest sign of ever receiving a bruise? And most questioning of all, why wasn't anyone — ANYBODY at all — furious with him? The events that occurred the day before, Gumball must sadly admit, would take a lot longer than a night and a few winks before anyone would look at him in any sort of positive light. Not to be mistaken, he was happy that no one was sending him deathly glares, and he almost cried with joy when he saw Penny smile, but regardless, it didn't sit well with him. It just…wasn't normal….

Out of the corner of Gumball's sight, Darwin tapped his brother's shoulder, and the blue cat jumped in his seat with a yelp as though Darwin's poke came from a hot needle instead of a smooth fin.

"Gumball, you're starting to scare me," said Darwin.

Straightening himself in his seat, Gumball looked his brother in the eye. He searched intently to confirm that what he was seeing was real and not a trick of his baffled mind. He looked hard, and, to his astonishment, found everything to be steady. The anger that Gumball saw in his brother the day before wasn't there anymore. It was as though it never existed.

"Darwin," Gumball steadied himself in his desk, feeling nervous at what he was about to ask, "is what Anais said true? Is today really —"

But before he could finish, the classroom door was thrust open.

"Class!" came the screechy voice of Miss Simian. She was holding a small stack of papers. "I've finished grading the reports for your science projects. Once again, only Bobert and Carmen got As!"

Darwin turned back to ask Gumball what had been wrong, but found his brother staring flabbergasted at the teacher. His eyes were wide and his mouth open to the shape of a silent yell.

"What's _your_ problem, Watterson?" sneered Miss Simian.

Gumball snapped out of his shock and diverted his gaze elsewhere, wondering the same question himself.

He watched the ancient baboon lift a paper off the stack and hold it out to Banana Joe…just like yesterday.

_Then came the intercom…._

And as though his thoughts willed it, the intercom sounded and out came, "Good morning, Elmore Junior High. This is Principal Brown."

Miss Simian pulled back the paper and made the familiar love-struck gesture up at the speaker.

"Today, as you all know," the principal went on, "is our Pep Fest to wish our Mustangs victory as they head out to the semifinals, so bring your school spirit and lend your voices as our cheerleaders send them off! Our lunch menu today is multigrain pasta with meat sauce, diced carrots, mixed fruit, and for dessert we have a special treat due to the Pep Fest: chocolate mint cake."

And like before, Gumball heard Carrie speak behind him with surprise. "Chocolate mint cake?"

He could practically feel the ghost looking at him with her hungry curiosity, but despite how it would normally affect him, it didn't bother him in the least. Gumball continued sitting utterly speechless as the déjà vu continued to unfold with Principal Brown's announcement.

"And don't forget, students, we're also having a little contest with prizes that I'll hand out at the Pep Fest. For anyone who wishes to enter, Mr. Small will be in the cafeteria at lunch. Anyone's welcome to enter; all you need to win is some luck.

"Best to you all and have a great day. **Gooooooo Mustangs**!"

The intercom beeped and Gumball's entire body felt wobbly. He gripped the edges of his desk as the floor seemed to sink deeper and deeper until it was like looking down into a dark canyon. If it had been true, Gumball would have fallen when Miss Simian slapped his grade sheet onto his desk. Snapping out of his thoughts and back to what Gumball hoped was reality, he saw the same deep red letter he received for a grade yesterday. The size, the place on the paper, the scratched texture: all was precisely the same.

"C, Watterson! Keep it up and you might actually —"

"Miss Simian!" Gumball shouted loudly, catching everyone off guard. "Wasn't the Pep Fest yesterday?" Though it was a terrible memory, one he would've been glad to forget, Gumball knew he had to hear this. He needed to know that he wasn't going crazy.

Miss Simian looked at him as though he were. "What do you mean 'yesterday'? Yesterday was Sunday. No one was here."

And with that, the last thread of calm broke from Gumball's brain and he began to breath rapidly as his heart thumped wildly in his chest. Before Miss Simian or anyone could make anything of this alarming behavior, Gumball leapt out of his seat.

"I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM!" He rocketed towards the door and pulled it open so hard that the metal hinges screeched as they were thrown beyond their limit. And with bafflement and worry on every face in the classroom, Gumball ran out of sight like a bullet leaving a gun.

* * *

><p><em>It can't be! IT CAN'T BE! <em>Gumball's mind couldn't stop saying that as he sprinted down the empty hallway, breathing hard, his heart pounding like a jackhammer on steel.

Turning a corner, Gumball pushed opened the bathroom door and dove straight for the nearest sink. He turned the right handle on full blast and scooped as much freezing cold water into his hands before throwing it in his face. He did this several times, biting his lip on the bitter sting the water brought to the sensitive skin beneath his fur. He even washed out his eyes and didn't care as they pleaded him to stop.

When Gumball sealed off the tap and listened to the remaining water flow down the open drain, he stood with his hands gripping the sides of the porcelain sink and looked himself in the mirror, breathing hard as water dripped off every strand of fur on his wet face. The feeling itself was numbed as his mind became too focused on the impossible occurrence he was facing.

_Okay…I'm not dreaming. I can feel the water and my heart beating. I'm definitely awake_.

With this statement mentally clear, his thoughts drifted back to yesterday morning and started making comparisons between what had occurred in the last few hours.

He had woken up at the same time on both days: 6:20. But that was hardly surprising. It was the same time he and his little brother and sister had been waking up for the past few years so that they could eat breakfast, brush up, and catch the school bus just as their mother left for work.

As for Darwin and Anais, Gumball remembered they both had the same tired but calm expressions, and neither one of them appeared upset with him for his supposed slipups from yesterday. Both remained in his room getting over the effect of sleep when….

Gumball froze, thinking back to when he walked out to use bathroom. He remembered hearing a light crash that came in the direction of his bedroom. _Could…could that have been Larry when he fell off his bike_?

And of course, there was the matching behavior between his mom and dad. Both acted in the same angry and excited manner, and both said the exact same things from the day before. Gumball's memory of that horrible day was so clear that he almost ended up mouthing them word for word. The same thing went for Principal Brown who spoke in the same excited tone for the Pep Fest. As far as Gumball could remember, not a single word had changed.

With as much recalled as he could, at least up to the current moment, Gumball couldn't deny it any longer.

Today was indeed Monday, and it was happening as it did before in the exact same way, and nobody seemed to have any memory of it.

_So why do _I_ remember_?

Gumball's head started to ache from all the complexity and he turned around rubbing his palm against his forehead. When he dropped his hand to the side, he planned on heading back to class, but stopped when something caught his attention.

It hadn't been until then that Gumball got a good look around the bathroom. Something about it didn't fit…. It was clean and perfectly normal, yes, and it had plenty of stalls, but _that_ was the problem. It had _too_ many stalls, far more than he ever saw.

The obvious explanation came and it turned to fright when he heard a toilet flush. After the cycling water died down, he noticed a pair of white shoes shuffling under one of the stall doors, and to Gumball's horror, he heard humming. Very soft humming.

The latch on the door loosened and out stepped Rachel, her eyes closed as she stood patting her large multicolored hair. For the umpteenth time, Gumball's mouth dropped in surprise, and before he could move, Rachel, sensing she wasn't alone, opened her eyes which grew enormous the moment she saw the blue cat.

For one brief moment, both turned their attention away from each other when they heard the bathroom door open and saw Molly walk in. The small black dinosaur stopped dead in her tracks when her sight fell on the unexpected intruder, matching Rachel's expression.

Gumball's face contracted, and with nervousness building like a shaking trap, he squeaked, "Oh, no."

* * *

><p>A loud piercing scream erupted from the girl's bathroom and was heard all over the school. Tobias and Darwin, from within Miss Simian's class, both jumped in their seats.<p>

"Rachel?" they said with worry. And as the scream died away, all of Elmore Junior High fell into silence.

* * *

><p><strong>And that's all for now.<strong>

**Please review. If there are any writing suggestions or tips (on scenes, summary, detail, whatever), feel free to point them out. I want to become a better writer and feedback from readers is invaluable.**


	4. Same Day, New Way

**I'm VERY sorry that this took so long, but I wanted to get the story to the way I want it, and that, unfortunately, takes time (as all things do). It will take long for me to finish a chapter given that I have school and homework, which can be exhausting. But still, I plan on writing. It is my goal to become a better writer, and I want to see this through.**

**DISCLAIMER: ****I OWN NOTHING**** from **_**The Amazing World of Gumball**_**, including characters, places, or any other references that may appear in this story; not a thing.**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 4<strong>

_Same Day, New Way_

It had taken less than 10 minutes for all of Elmore Junior High to catch word that Gumball Watterson had gone into the girl's bathroom. Rachel's shriek had caught the attention of half the staff and thus stalled the first of the morning classes.

Gumball was forcibly escorted to the Principal's Office by Miss Simian, and despite the firm grip his teacher had on his forearm, and the glares Rachel and Molly shot him as they walked down the hall, Gumball wasn't giving either one of them any attention. The only thought currently floating about his mind was the inexplicable fact that today was somehow Monday.

His senses reawakened when he was shoved onto the floor of the partially lit office and saw Rachel's white shoes, and the large, rough, black feet that could only belong to Molly, walk past him.

Pressing himself up off the floor, Gumball turned around just in time to see Miss Simian present her wicked and infamous leer before she closed the door, shutting out the hallway light, making the office somehow darker despite the florescent bulbs glowing on the ceiling.

"Please, have a seat, Mr. Watterson," Principal Brown's tone was calm but, much like yesterday, not without slight irritation.

Gumball did what he was asked and sat down in a chair he recognized as the one he was told to sit down in during yesterday's detention. The chair was positioned a few feet from the desk, allowing Gumball to see Principal Brown only from his shoulders' bottom up. Rachel and Molly stood at the side of the desk, glaring with their arms crossed, giving the impression of two very angry officers staring down a crook.

A moment or two passed before Principal Brown broke the silence that accumulated in his office. He began with a sigh and then a shake of his head, making a small adjustment to his glasses. And finally, he looked at Gumball and began, "You know, Mr. Watterson, I had a very strong feeling that something might happen today, given that it's the Pep Fest — something nobody could predict. But," his brow lowered, "I didn't think it would be something like this. And, even though I know you for your mischief, I never thought you would go so far, would stoop so low to such trouble, and so _early_ on a Monday morning."

The furry principal's fingers could be heard rasping, maybe in hopes that Gumball would feel some shame for what the adult believed was a sick prank. Gumball, however, paid little attention to Brown's attitude. It was what the principal said that made Gumball twitch; it was a word that hit like a curse word: Monday.

Timidly, the 12-year-old cat raised a hand, "Principal Brown, can I ask something?"

"What is it, Mr. Watterson?" his irritated glance stayed firm.

"Is everything in the library fixed?"

The Principal raised an eyebrow, and Gumball took notice that Rachel and Molly also looked puzzled at this sudden change of subject.

The principal responded with a frown, "What do you mean? The library is fine, just as we left it on Friday. Don't bother trying to worm your way out of trouble, Gumball. What you did was a very immature thing."

"Sir, please," he said, his mind returning to the present. "That was just an accident."

"An _accident_?" Rachel exclaimed, stomping her foot. "What boy 'accidentally' goes into the girl's bathroom?"

"Rachel, please," Principal Brown gently raised his hand. "I understand that you're frustrated and a little shook, but Mr. Watterson does have a right to speak. Please, allow him to say what he wishes to say."

Rachel clearly did not approve of the idea, but accepted. Her frown wasn't quite as bitter as it was moments ago, but it still held its accusation.

_He's lucky he's Darwin's brother,_ she thought.

"So, Mr. Watterson," Principal Brown rolled his eyes, "what is your excuse?"

Gumball opened his mouth but stopped just before his voice escaped. He knew exactly what he wanted to say, but how on earth could he explain it? He, himself, didn't know what was going on. All he knew was the impossible fact being confirmed from so many people:

_Today _is _Monday_!

_Yesterday was Sunday. No one was here._

And from what he heard seconds ago. …_and so early on a Monday morning._

Principal Brown cleared his throat, his fingers were rasping again. "Gumball, we're waiting."

Noticing the spark of annoyance behind Brown's glasses, and Molly and Rachel's glares growing no weaker, Gumball decided it was best to answer, and to keep it brief.

He spoke the simple truth. "I was in a big hurry and didn't read the sign."

Principal Brown scoffed, "_Didn't read the sign_. From what Rachel told me, you didn't use the toilet when you went in."

"Well…I didn't need to use the bathroom for _that_."

"Then why did you leave your classroom? Miss Simian said you looked like you were having a panic attack."

Gumball slightly agreed, but no panic attack could do what was happening around him; he knew that much.

"Sir…don't you remember _anything_ from yesterday? _Anything_ that happened at school?" Gumball couldn't believe it but he actually hoped the furry principal _would_ remember (at least part of it), just so he would have a reasonable excuse.

Principal Brown shared a confused look along with Rachel and Molly. "What are you talking about, Watterson? Yesterday was Sunday and no one, other than Rocky, was here. Now answer my question: why did you go into the girl's bathroom if you didn't need to use it?"

Gumball felt a little hope flutter away. What the principal said only confirmed what had been slapping him in the face all morning, and he knew it made the chances of anyone believing his predicament less and less.

Once again, he tried the truth; once again, being very subtle. "I…needed to splash some water in my face."

Principal Brown stared blankly as though he just heard a longwinded joke. "That's it? _That's_ your explanation? _That's_ why you scared your entire class?"

Gumball looked nervously at the floor, his brain sprinting to concoct something realistic. "I…felt very confused and I panicked."

"Confused? What on earth about?"

"I don't really know, sir. It's complicated."

"Complicated?" Principal Brown looked like he didn't know whether or not Gumball was talking about one thing or the other. "How is it complicated?"

"Well," Gumball gave a short sigh, "given the fact that no one but me seems to realize what's going on here, I don't think I can explain it any better."

It couldn't have sounded any lamer, he knew that, but what else could he say?

"Oh, enough, Mr. Watterson," Principal Brown shook his head. "I didn't want to do this, but you leave me no choice. I'll have to call your parents." The furry principal picked up his phone and started to dial a number.

Gumball's confusion disappeared at once. "WHAT? No, please!"

"Too late, it's already ringing," said the principal calmly. Rachel and Molly both gleamed with mean satisfaction.

_Great_, Gumball thought desperately. _A demolished library will be nothing when Mom hears about this._

A moment passed before the principal finally spoke into the phone, "Yes, good morning, Mr. Watterson. It's Principal Brown. "

Gumball let out a breath of great relief. _Yes! It's only dad_.

"Yes, yes, I'm doing well. Listen, I'm calling to inform that your son has gotten himself into a bit of trouble."

There was a pause, and Gumball and the two girls both leaned forward in some trivial hope to hear the conversation.

Principal Brown listened and lowered his brow. "No, Mr. Watterson, he's not naked. He…" The principal paused again. "No, he's not going on a crazy eating spree. He…" He stopped once again, and this time growled, "NO, he didn't tie me up and stuff me in a locker! I'm talking to you right now, how could I if he did that to me?" Principal Brown breathed in frustration for a few seconds. "Anyway, just stop for a second, Mr. Watterson, and listen. Your son went into the girl's bathroom here at school."

There was another pause. This one lasted longer. "Huh? I said, your son went into the girl's bathroom! Now, I think —" but before he could finish, Principal Brown stopped and became very puzzled. He pressed the receiver firmly to his ear, "Mr. Watterson, are you still there?"

And then, all of a sudden, a loud bang emitted from outside, causing everyone in the office to jump. The sound came from the front of the school and was accompanied by what appeared to be the thumping of large feet. The thumping got louder and louder, until — BAM!

The door of Principal Brown's office was thrust opened. The principal and three children stood in shock at an out of breath Richard Watterson standing in the doorway. He was holding a bucket filled with sudsy water.

"I…never…" Richard breathed in and out heavily, his huge hand clutching his heart, "…thought…I would have to…use this." With a frown on his face, he took his free hand and pulled out a bar of soap from the bucket.

Principal Brown, realizing what was going to happen, put up his hand to say, "Mr. Watterson, don't! That's —"

"Don't worry," said Richard, and his glance turned to Gumball. "It's the non-toxic kind."

And when the large pink rabbit pounced, Principal Brown, Rachel, and Molly watched in wide-eyed shock as Mr. Watterson started to scrub. Gumball was pinned to the floor, his arms flailing as water fell passed his lips. Gasping and coughing, he tried to speak, but his throat kept filling with suds as his father's giant hand maneuvered the soap vigorously over his tongue and cheeks.

Half a minute passed before Richard finally stopped and breathed hard again, standing amongst a large wet, sudsy puddle that covered half the office floor. Dropping the bumpy bar of soap, Richard stepped backwards and grabbed something out of a paper bag he placed down when he burst in.

The large pink rabbit walked passed Gumball, who continued coughing up bubbles, and leaned down to Rachel and Molly. "I'm so sorry for my son's behavior. Here," he smiled and held out a paper plate, "help yourselves to these tasty cookies my wife made."

Taking the plate, Rachel and Molly both awkwardly said, "Uh…thanks."

Richard humbly nodded and turned back to his son. "This isn't over yet, Gumball. Just wait until your mother hears this." And with that, Richard walked out the door.

Gumball got back onto his feet and wiped a little foam hanging off the tips of his whiskers.

"Well…uh, Mr. Watterson," said Principal Brown, still taken aback from Richard's actions, "I was going to give you detention for the rest of the week, but I've changed my mind."

"Really?" asked Gumball hopefully.

"Yes. Instead, I'm just going to give you detention for today."

"WHAT?" Gumball yelled, coughing as the last of the suds left his throat. "After I got my mouth washed out with soap?"

"Yes," Brown replied simply. "Albeit that I feel you learned your lesson, you still broke a serious school rule and deserve a detention. I think during the Pep Fest will be fitting."

"NO!" Gumball shouted in despair, catching everyone off guard. "You're going to make me miss the Pep Fest _again_?"

"Again?" said Principal Brown, his eyebrow raised. "What do you mean 'again'?"

The blue cat could see clearly that the principal didn't understand him. And Molly and Rachel, who had both started on a cookie, shared a confused expression along with their anger .

Gumball, knowing it was pointless, sighed with his shoulders hunched, and responded "Nothing."

And with that, the matter was settled.

* * *

><p>Gumball still had the taste of soap on his tongue when he sat down to eat lunch that afternoon, but despite the mildly sour bites, he managed to adapt with help from the spices in the pasta's meat sauce. Excluding the tang from the soap, the cafeteria's food tasted the same as it did the first time around, and like yesterday, Gumball found himself alone at the same table. This time, however, he was thankful to be alone.<p>

The bathroom scene with Rachel made Gumball instantly unpopular with practically all the girls in school. Most that were in his class were seated at the same table and shooting glares across from him. Penny was the only one he noticed not participating in their game of 'Stare-Gumball-To-Death'. Occasionally, he would see her look briefly towards him and immediately slip back to eating her lunch.

The boys reacted differently, but Gumball didn't find them any more comforting than the grinding looks he got from the girls. Most of the boys snickered while others chatted about strange rumors.

"I heard," stated Banana Joe, "that Gumball planned on flooding the girl's bathroom so he could sail out of school on a pirate ship with Rachel held hostage."

Finally, Gumball came to the last of his classmates, sitting the furthest away. Tobias and Darwin were both seated with Rachel, and together they glared at the blue cat like football players aching to tear apart their opponent.

Sighing, Gumball pushed his tray forward, having no more appetite than he did when Principal Brown crushed his chances a second time. Leaning back in his seat, he stared up at the ceiling and felt as lifeless as his napkin when someone even more so floated next to him.

"Hey, Gumball," said Carrie in her usual tone. "I can see that —"

"I said it five times already!" Gumball exclaimed. "It was just an accident! I don't have a crush on an older girl, I didn't see anything, and NO, I'm not a girl in boys clothes!"

He gritted his teeth as Carrie lingered in the air, holding a plate with a piece chocolate mint cake.

"Did you hear me?" said Gumball with annoyance.

"Yeah," Carrie said calmly, as though she didn't hear his attitude. "I believe you."

The blue cat's eyes widened. "You do?"

"Of course I do. I know you're not that kind of person. And besides, Rachel has been known to freak out from time to time. Just give it a week, stuff like this doesn't last too long."

"Oh…thanks." Gumball never imagined a girl would believe him for what happened, not even Carrie. But then again, Carrie _was_ considered to be a laid-back emo. She might not consider it worth her trouble being angry; she's miserable enough as it is, (or, at least, that's what she claims).

"Anyway, Gumball" said Carrie. "I was wondering if you could help me eat this cake."

His sight dropped to the dessert. Gumball recognized the large piece as the same one Carrie held out last time. Its texture, its placement, its appetizing look fit together as neatly as a jigsaw puzzle. It was another reminder of Monday happening all over again.

"Carrie," Gumball sighed, "though you don't remember, I have said this already: No. I've been through enough and I don't want to gain an extra 50 pounds."

Gumball expected Carrie to react with the same confusion he saw in so many people today: that twitch of the eyebrow and/or stretch of the mouth that came without complete comprehension. But Carrie's demeanor only lessened. A small frown formed on her white translucent face.

"Gumball, please," she said in a sad tone. "I've been practicing and I —"

"No, Carrie," Gumball stood up from the table, now annoyed. "We both know how it's going to end. We both know you can't control yourself."

Gumball grabbed the milk carton off his tray and started away from the table without listening to another word.

"But…" surprised by Gumball's sudden decision to leave, Carrie remained floating where she was and watched as the blue cat walked out of the cafeteria.

Carrie's frown deepened, and she hung her head, looking down at her cake. The piece wasn't as appetizing anymore, and not just because her taste buds had long departed.

What Gumball had said…it hurt.

* * *

><p>Not long after, the bell rang and ended lunch period. Gumball drank all the milk from the small carton before entering the library, paying mind to the large sign next to it about no food or drink.<p>

The library held the same busy atmosphere as yesterday, and besides the glares he got from a few girls when he entered, everything was calm. Just as Principal Brown had stated, all was perfectly fine; Gumball didn't find a single crocked shelf anywhere.

With the feeling of strangeness crawling up and down his arms, Gumball moved around to search for the thesaurus he never got around to…finding….

Gumball froze, and a thought entered his mind. He slowly went around the same bookshelves as yesterday, paying no mind to the floor. After coming around a corner, he saw Bobert at a computer with his back turned. Gumball's memory reverted to that horrible scene, where he slipped, where the computer flew and crashed all over the library like a deranged pinball.

His bare feet took one step. He took another two. And then….

Gumball's nerves fired as he felt himself fall off balance and trip to the floor, a book resting near his foot. Bobert, Teri, Molly, and Masami both turned their attention away from their work to see the cat lying where he slipped. Bobert turned back to the monitor without a second thought; the three girls shot a distasteful glance before returning to their Great Wall project.

Gumball didn't move.

_It's the same…_, he thought._ It's ALL the same…._

* * *

><p>At recess, Gumball sat quietly by himself on one of the benches, staring vacantly at the blacktop as his brain worked every synapse to cook up an explanation for what was happening.<p>

The last few hours had been no different compared to the ones yesterday. Though Gumball knew he had been miserable the day before and didn't pay much attention, there were certain points of Miss Simian's lessons that stood out as evoking. And instead of the whole class being furious with him, this time, only the girls were vicious, but all with the same countenance they held the day before.

Gumball rubbed the sides of his temples, trying to urge a enlightening thought to flow into his mind as he tried to drown out the sounds of his classmates playing. It must have worked because the voices and sounds started to decrease. It all receded into footsteps as a number of shadows appeared at Gumball's feet.

Noticing the dark shapes on the ground, Gumball looked up and found all of his classmates surrounding him with Tobias at the front. Each kid held an unwelcoming glare. Penny, Teri, and Carrie were the only ones not present.

"What are ya up to, Gumball?" Tobias spoke with angry suspicion.

Gumball awkwardly responded, "Nothing. Just thinking."

"About your next little prank, I bet!" spat Masami, floating behind.

"Time for payback, dude," Tobias sneered, trying to crack his knuckles without success.

Sighing with huge annoyance, Gumball said, "And I suppose it won't matter if I tell you for the 30th time that it was all just an accident?"

"Accident or not, no one tries to peek at my sister! Bobert!"

Gumball suddenly felt a very cold and hard grip around his shoulders and was hoisted up into the air and placed down onto the center of the blacktop. He watched the long robotic arms retract back to Bobert as he and the others approached him again.

Tobias marched right up in front of Gumball. Adjusting his green headband and wristbands, he clenched his fists and said, "Prepare to become pain-filled!"

Then, with his face firm, he stepped forward and pulled back his fist. Gumball brought his hands up and closed his eyes, awaiting the punch.

It came, and to Gumball's surprise he didn't feel any sort of pain. Opening his eyes, he stood confused as Tobias continued to punch, leaving as much effect as a pillow against a brick wall. Again and again, grunting and breathing, Tobias brought on the punches, circling around Gumball as the blue cat and everyone else watched his pointless attempt.

After about a minute, Tobias was out of breath and fell to his knees. "You…" he breathed hard, completely worn out. "You win…." And with that, his head hit the ground, his mouth hanging open.

"Well, that was embarrassing," said Masami.

Gumball agreed as well. No wonder Tobias is always a benchwarmer; there's no muscles _anywhere_ in his body.

_Well, that wasn't so bad_, Gumball shrugged. _For a minute there, I thought —_

Just as he lifted his foot to leave, Darwin pushed past the crowd and stopped in front of Gumball. Again, deep silence filled the blacktop as the goldfish bitterly scowled at his brother.

"Darwin?" said Gumball hesitantly.

His brother curled his orange fin and slowly brought it back.

* * *

><p>Gumball trudged down the school's hallway, his hand covering his left eye as it throbbed with pain. Who knew Darwin had such a good arm, and an even stronger punch?<p>

Gumball arrived outside the nurse's office when the door opened and Teri carefully walked out. The paper bear had her pom-poms in her hand and appeared to have a crinkle or two in her right leg.

"Hi, Teri," said Gumball. "Are you all right?"

Teri didn't give an answer. She merely turned her head away with a frown, "Hmph!" and walked away in the direction of the gym.

_I guess she's still mad like the other girls_, Gumball thought as he watched her limp away.

Gumball walked in to the nurse's office where the Band-Aid nurse gave him an ice pack to take with as he heard the bell ring. He left for Principal Brown's office, remembering then that he was going to miss the Pep Fest again, causing his eye to hurt even greater.

"Ah, Mr. Watterson," said Principal Brown when Gumball walked in, "I'm happy to see you didn't…" he stopped, noticing the ice pack. "What happened your eye?"

"Darwin punched me at recess," said Gumball with gloom.

"I see…. I'll be sure to have a talk with him afterwards. For now, please sit in this chair until I get back."

He pointed to the same tiny chair at the front of his desk that Gumball had sat in this morning, and as Gumball, with shoulders low and head in decline, sat in the uncomfortable seat, the principal picked up a box Gumball remembered from yesterday.

"What's in the box?"

"Oh, this?" Brown held the cardboard container by the handles. "This holds the prizes for the Pep Fest. And speaking of which," and without giving Gumball a second look, he walked out, leaving the 12-year-old cat alone in shaded silence.

* * *

><p>"Okay, Mr. Watterson," said Principal Brown when he came back, "you may go. By the way, I talked to —"<p>

Gumball didn't stick around to listen and sprinted out of the office, avoiding the crowd of students as they all headed out to the bus. He ignored any glares the girls gave him or any of the smart-alecky comments from the boys. He thought only of Penny.

When he reached the gymnasium entrance, he took a deep breath. _If this goes out like yesterday, Fate is truly against me_.

He pushed the doors open and immediately found Penny sitting on the front bleachers. The gym was the same as yesterday with confetti and a few props on the ground. He jogged over to Penny and removed the icepack from his face, letting it rest by his side as he tried to look as composed as he could force himself.

"Hey, Penny," he smiled lightly, ignoring the irritation from his black eye.

Penny looked at him with a downcast face, and, in a voice that was neither happy nor angry, she said, "I'm glad that you're not too hurt."

"Huh?"

"I heard that Darwin hit you at recess. I was afraid that it was really bad."

Gumball couldn't help but feel grateful at Penny's concern. "It's not too bad."

But Penny's demeanor changed. "Well," she said with a sigh, "I guess I better go."

"Wait!" Gumball stepped in front of her after she took a step. "Penny, I'm really sorry!"

"I know you are. It's just…well, you promised me and…," she shook her head, "oh, I just don't know."

"But that wasn't my fault! What happened with Rachel was an accident. Penny, you know I wouldn't do something like that!"

"_Of course _I know you wouldn't, Gumball," she said sincerely. "I believed you the first time you explained it. And I don't like that the other girls and your own brother were so hard on you, but…" she stopped and sighed again, "I wish you would've been more attentive."

"Attentive? To what?"

"To knowing which bathroom was which. No offence, Gumball, but you're 12. You should be a little more careful."

"But Penny, I was panicking!" he said desperately. "My mind was scrambling when I ran in. I never even saw the sign!"

"What was that about anyway?" she lifted an eyebrow. "You really scared me this morning."

Gumball stopped just as he was about to explain. Even Penny, whom he clearly remembered being so disappointed, would have doubts of anything he could offer as reason.

"Well…I, I wasn't…feeling right with the moment." He smiled foolishly, his brain frowning at him within his skull.

Penny's eyes lowered in annoyance. "Gumball, that makes absolutely no sense."

"Well…uh…" Gumball's eyes darted all over as his mind frantically tried to work something out.

"Penny!" called a voice from the gym's entrance. Both the cat and antlered peanut turned and saw Carmen walk towards the two with Molly and Teri beside her. They were all holding their pom-poms.

They turned bitter at the sight of Gumball.

"Penny, why are you talking with _him_?" asked Carmen.

Gumball responded, "I just wanted —"

"Just what?" said Carmen bitterly. "Just wanted to see if you can cause more trouble?"

"Carmen!" Penny said disapprovingly.

"We got to practice for the game tonight. Penny, grab your pom-poms and let's get going." Carmen, Teri, and Molly turned around to leave.

With a sigh, Penny walked to the bleachers and pulled her white pom-poms from behind the space of the seat.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Gumball." She spoke with sadness, and it shot to Gumball's heart.

"Penny, I'm sorry!" he said without thinking.

Penny stopped and looked back at him. All she could do was sadly shake her head and walk out the door being held for her by the three girls. After she was out of sight, the last thing Gumball saw was the anger of the girls as Molly bitterly pulled the door shut. None of their frowns compared to what Penny's sadness had on him as the hanging lights began to dim.

* * *

><p>Of course, Gumball missed the bus and had to walk home again. To think, the day repeats itself and it's no better the second time. In fact, it was almost as bad as yesterday, give or take a few less misfortunes.<p>

With one eye throbbing and the other guiding him down the sidewalk, he painfully thought of each new disaster that befell him.

He not only makes Darwin mad but gets punched by him. Every girl in school thinks he's a total creep. His dad ran all the way to school to wash his mouth out with soap.

And Penny's frown…. Gumball felt his heart moan. Somehow, he preferred Penny's anger from yesterday.

Curving around the sidewalk, Gumball walked down the block and arrived at his house.

Clenching his lukewarm ice pack, he muttered, "Stupid Rachel, stupid girls, stupid eye, stupid day repeating itself." He opened the front door in a fit.

He never even noticed his neighbor watching him from over the fence.

* * *

><p>Gumball walked into the living room and found Darwin and Anais seated on the couch. His brother looked at him unsympathetically.<p>

"Rough day?" asked Anais, noticing his black eye.

He didn't answer, but only looked at Darwin's rigid expression.

Gumball entered the kitchen and placed his ice pack in the freezer, grabbing a new one the family kept aside for emergencies. His eye took delight in the chill as he pressed the pack gently onto his face. He began to walk out when a voice called, "Not so fast, Gumball."

He cringed at his name, and turned to both his parents. His mother stared angrily at him with her arms crossed, and his dad, with his hands at his hips, showed an uncharacteristic frown.

"What did you do this time?" said Nicole, irritation seeping from her voice.

"It was just an accident," the phrase was starting to grow tiresome.

"Of all the immature things to do! Gumball, I really can't believe you would go into the girl's bathroom!"

"Good, because I didn't do it on purpose."

"Don't you play clever with me!"

"Gumball," said Richard, "though I'm not thought or seen to be very responsible, and even do senseless, irresponsible things on a regular basis, I thought we raised you better. You know how you're suppose to treat girls."

"Yeah, I know," he said, remembering very well how his parents raised him, "'like how I want to be treated', and I do, it's just —"

"No excuses, Gumball," said Nicole, frowning. "Your detention may have only been for today but you're still in trouble here."

"What? Oh, come on!"

"No, I WON'T come on! You caused a lot trouble today."

"_Me_?" Gumball said indignantly. "_I_ caused a lot of trouble?" Walking out of the kitchen as his parents followed, Gumball went to the living room and jutted his hand towards his brother. "Darwin, in case you two didn't notice, gave me a black eye! Do you see it?" He removed his ice pack and pointed directly at it. "It's black and swollen and feels like a pulled muscle!"

"Be lucky I didn't give you two!" snapped Darwin. "You deserve another for forgetting me on our science report!"

"Boys, enough!" shouted Nicole. "You're both grounded for the night. No TV or dessert. Bedrooms, now!" Angrily, she pointed up to the second floor.

Darwin complied bitterly. "Thanks a lot," he said as he passed his brother. Once the goldfish reached the top step, Gumball tried one last time to reason with his parents.

"Mom, Dad, please listen. _Something_ is going on. I really think we —"

"I don't want hear it right now, Gumball," she said bitterly. "Whatever it is, we'll talk about it tomorrow."

The last word hit Gumball like a bad joke and caused his voice to rise with frustration. "Tomorrow? _Today_ was supposed to be tomorrow, but all I got was yesterday!"

Nichole, Richard, and Anais all stared at him with no amount of comprehension as he headed upstairs in aggravation.

Darwin was sitting on the lower bunk with his arms crossed and back turned. The two brothers sat on the separate bunks silently until it was time for supper. Nicole was too upset from what Gumball did to cook, so they just had leftovers.

After supper, Gumball was sent back to his room with Darwin where the two continued their embittered silence until their mother came and told them it was time for bed. As Gumball brushed his teeth, he heard his parents talking outside the door.

"Wait," his mother said with surprise, "you washed his mouth out with soap?"

"Yeah," said his father, sounding pleased. "I hear that's what you're suppose to do."

"Richard, that's for when a child swears, and besides, you're don't REALLY wash the mouth out with soap, it's toxic."

"Technically, I used non-toxic deodorant soap, and don't worry, my mom did it to me hundreds of times and I never got sick."

Nicole lifted an eyebrow. "You swore when you were little?"

"No, I just had bad breath that required more than mouthwash."

Gumball returned to his bedroom as Darwin took his turn brushing up.

When Darwin came back in, he jumped right into his fishbowl.

"Night, Darwin," said Gumball, holding one last hope of forgiveness.

Darwin didn't sneer, but he didn't reply either. He just closed his eyes as his whole self covered the inside of his bowl.

"Better luck tomorrow, Gumball," said Anais, disappearing around the corner.

Outside his door, his mother and father stood looking in. "This isn't finished, Gumball," said Nicole. "We _will_ continue this in the morning."

She closed the door, leaving Gumball with the last sentence floating in his ears. _I can't believe I'm saying this, but I hope we do_.

He dressed out of his clothes and put on his nightshirt, stopping abruptly as he was about to lay his clothes across the bottom bunk. He looked at the two ends, then to his pants and sweater. With a plan, he placed them at each end of the bed and made a firm mental note.

_Pants at the pillow, sweater at the front_.

Climbing up the ladder to his bunk, Gumball crawled over to his pillow and laid himself down on the sheets.

His mind swam with everything that happened today. Without a doubt, today had been much better from the previous nightmare he had lived through. True, the black eye and the fact that he missed the Pep Fest again hurt terribly, but nevertheless, it was a different day, despite being the same day.

The only question now was what will come tomorrow?

_Or will it even come?_ he thought.

With his face resting on the soft pillow, he placed his sight on the alarm clock as the green numbers slowly progressed. And after several long minutes, Gumball closed his blurry eyes. The numbers from the clock appeared as a spot inside his eyelids and remained like the glow of a burning fire until it disappeared into the black and away from existence.

* * *

><p><strong>And that's all for now. It might take a while for me to get chapter 5 up, but I'll keep at it.<strong>

**Please review. And if I can make a request, is there anything about my writing style that's lacking? Do I describe enough? Is the story easy to imagine? If there's anything at all that you think needs improving (other than the updating), please say so. Thank you for reading.**


	5. One Who Knows

**I want to apologize to all of my readers for making you all wait so long. I have been lazy and forgetful, and I am sorry because I know that isn't much of an excuse. Instead of working to be a better writer, I kept waiting and goofing off, but of course, waiting, and especially goofing off, doesn't bring words to the page. I've learned that, even when you don't feel like it, you have to write. It's the only way to improve.**

**Worst of all, I was inconsiderate to you: my readers. If a writer doesn't think of his/her readers, then he/she is already doomed. Writers may be the ones who make the story, but the readers are those who make it known; they are the reason writers write in the first place, so others can read them.**

**Once again, I am sorry for this prolonged delay. I hope you all can forgive me. I will keep trying to write and try to bring you the best story I can.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 5<strong>

_One Who Knows_

Gumball shot up from his bed the next morning when the alarm clock's high-pitched buzz erupted. His sight darted towards the clamor.

6:20, the clock read tauntingly.

Gumball's drowsiness vanished instantly. His heart pounding like a bass drum, he threw off his bed sheets, hopped down from the top bunk, and twisted in the direction towards the bottom one.

_"NO!"_ his mind shouted, shock flooding his throat. His blue hands slid urgently over the pillow and down to the foot of the bed where he had laid his sweater and pants.

But the clothes were no longer there.

Ignoring the alarm clock's continuing buzz, Gumball zoomed to his closet and yanked open the door. His mouth fell. There, inside the closet, were his sweater and pants, hanging in the same place from Sunday when his mother had done the laundry.

Gumball backed away, shaking his head, his eyesight glued to the closet and its inhabitants. Nothing, not even the alarm clock and its ongoing cry, could take place of the clothes.

Suddenly, the door opened with a squeak and Gumball turned to see Anais walk in.

Rubbing her tiny hand over her sleepy pink face, she asked with a yawn. "You going to turn that off?"

Turning back to the crying alarm, Gumball saw the green numbers had progressed to 6:21. He moved to the desk and pressed the switch down, silencing the noise. Gumball stood rigid, eyeing the lifeless clock and the time it told, not looking behind when he heard Darwin emerge from his fishbowl or the sound of water dripping onto the dresser.

"Hey, buddy," Darwin greeted in that same happy tone.

Gumball, with his mind feeling off kilter, gave a light shudder to the familiar response and headed out the door without speaking.

In the bathroom, Gumball positioned himself in front the mirror and stared disbelievingly at another surprise impossible to miss.

The black eye Darwin gave him yesterday was gone.

His mind on the fritz, he poked his fingers around his eye socket, searching for the sensitive muscles previously beneath his blue fur. He prodded every part of his face's left side, but he felt no sting; none in the least.

Almost on impulse, Gumball threw the faucet on and cupped the coldest water his palms could retain. Fiercely, he scrubbed his face until it was soaked and stared at his reflection as water dripped heavily off his whiskers. For a while the only sound he heard was his deep breathing. A moment later….

CRASH!

His mind reeling, amongst other things, Gumball ran back to his room where the noise emitted and found Darwin and Anais gathered by the window.

"What happened?" he asked, appearing from behind.

Darwin replied, "Larry fell off his bike."

Gumball peered through the glass, and indeed, there was Larry, slumped on the ground, his box-like head tipsy with stars circling above it.

"Looks like he hit a bump in the sidewalk," Anais remarked, not noticing her big brother's baffled face as he ran out the door.

Gumball frantically leapt down the stairs into the living room, grabbed the remote off the couch, and turned on the TV.

_"This has to be a trick! No way can this be happening again!"_

"Good morning, Elmore," said the news anchor. "It's Monday morning and things look to be off to a lovely start with clear skies all around."

Gumball stared vacantly at the screen, paying no attention to the report as it ranted on about some recent news. Old news in Gumball's case.

"Gumball!" his mother shouted from the kitchen. "I want a word with you, now!"

His face hardly losing its shock, Gumball got up off the couch and walked to the kitchen where his mother stood clenching her broken china plate.

"How DARE you break one of MY good china plates for a — " Nicole's fury sank upon seeing the shocked expression on her son's face. "Honey?"

Gumball's widened eyes were on the plate.

It was still there! The sticky white glue still coated the surface! The crack was still in that jagged pattern!

_Everything_ was still there, as it was before!

_Not again. Not again!_

Before Nicole could ask what was wrong, Gumball dashed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. His legs felt shaky, as though the house wobbled beneath each step.

At the top of the stairs, Darwin and Anais were starting to walk down.

"Hey, Gumba— " was all Darwin got out before his brother frantically pushed passed him and closed the door to his bedroom, leaving his siblings confused.

It wasn't until Gumball had his back to the door that it occurred he had no idea why he decided to come up here. But, with the mass confusion swarming in his head and the muscles in his arms and stomach fidgeting wildly, it was probably the best place in case he fainted.

With a hand pressed to his head, he walked over to the lower bunk and sat down.

_It's happening again_, he thought dismally. _WHY?_

Of course, he knew he didn't have the answer, and he also knew there was nobody in the house who did. Surely they would've noticed by now, but even if they did Gumball couldn't see how any of them could explain it. Even Anais would probably have to scratch her head for a few days to figure this one out.

Still…it might be worth telling someone….

Gumball slid his hand down his face, knowing well that he would get nowhere by sitting and worrying. With as much calm as he could force into existence, he got back on his feet and opened his closet where his clothes were waiting for him. The limp droop of the sleeves and legs caused goose bumps to run up along Gumball's arms. Remembering how they disappeared off the bottom bunk, he wondered for a moment if the clothes would jump to life as he pulled them off the hangers.

* * *

><p>"Mom, please!" Gumball pleaded, gripping his mother's leg. "You got to listen!"<p>

"I don't want to hear it, Gumball!" said Nicole, frowning as she walked across the house's walkway. "First you break one my good plates and then you make me worry that something was wrong with you. I am NOT in the mood for games!"

Slamming the car door, she irritably turned the key, bringing the engine to life.

"But it's not a game!" Gumball said over the car's rev. "I'm serious about what I said!"

"Then I hope you have plenty of energy because the morning's just getting started!"

Gritting her teeth in frustration, Nicole shifted the car's gears and drove speedily off the curb, leaving her son alone on the sidewalk.

After his mother was out of view, Gumball's furry blue fingers clenched into fists. A hot quantity of annoyance built up in his cheeks and his teeth clenched at the emerging anger.

Unable to hold in the aggravation, he shot his arms into the air, letting his lungs explode.

"AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS IT'S NOT SUPPOSE TO BE MONDAY?"

"Who are you talking to?" came Anais from behind.

Gumball turned to face her. "To anyone who can provide an explanation."

"An explanation to what?"

Lightly irritated, he said, "Do you have to ask? Because if you do, I seriously doubt you can help."

Anais glared at this comment. "Listen, Gumball. Because you didn't take the advise I gave you last night, I'm not in a very good mood right now. So just keep your dumb jokes to yourself until the bus comes so you can tell them to someone else."

"But don't you see?" Gumball's was almost desperate. "We've done all of this three times now!"

"What do you mean?" asked Darwin. "We always wait for the bus on Monday, like every other school day."

"You guys," Gumball said with seriousness, "that's just it! Monday is repeating itself! _Everyone_ is doing the _exact_ same things they did yesterday, right down to the words, and nobody seems aware of it but me!"

Darwin and Anais exchanged a very peculiar look.

"Uh…Gumball," said Darwin, sounding concerned. "Did you hit your head this morning by any chance? I remember hearing you land hard on the floor when the alarm sounded."

Annoyed at his brother's speculation, Gumball thoroughly explained what he did with his clothes the night before and went on to explain how yesterday itself was nothing more than a duplication of the original Monday. Upon finishing, his siblings looked no more enlightened. In fact, Anais looked even more annoyed than earlier.

"Ha, ha, clever joke, Gumball," she said with sour sarcasm. "_My_ memory, however, is flawless, and I _know_ that yesterday was Sunday. And I clearly remember you did nothing all day except daydream about the Pep Fest and Penny. You were like a zombie to everything else."

Her face in a bitter scrunch, Anais pushed past her brother and entered the school bus which came up as she spoke.

"Darwin, you believe me, right?" asked Gumball.

The goldfish was silent and at a loss for words. Sighing, he answered, "Sorry, Gumball. I just can't see how something like that can happen. I mean, I clearly remember yesterday being Sunday. And I don't see how it could've been Monday already because it only comes once a week."

"Well, it's come three times for me so far! And I don't know how much more — "

BEEEEEP!

The bus's loud horn cut Gumball off.

"Come on, Gumball!" said Rocky, looking down from the driver's seat. "We're gonna to run late if we don't get a move on."

Darwin stepped onto the first step and looked back. "Maybe you should see Mr. Small about this, Gumball. I'm kind of worried about you."

Watching his brother proceed up the steps, the young cat growled and retorted, "Yeah? Well just wait another day and _then_ see how I am!"

His teeth lightly clenched, Gumball stomped aboard, ignoring even Penny's wave to him as he passed.

The yellow school bus's doors closed and began down the block from the Watterson's home.

On the fence that divided the small blue house laid two dark gray hands, gripping the tops of two planks. They held up an old man who overheard everything Gumball said to his little sister and brother.

Gently, the Watterson's neighbor lowered himself back onto his lawn, his mouth hanging open.

"It's him…," said Mr. Robinson. "He's the one…" With the realization finally taking its full effect, the old puppet's eyes lowered behind his huge square glasses. "It just _had_ to be him."

* * *

><p>It wasn't until lunchtime that Gumball got a chance to speak to Mr. Small, and the waiting had been unpleasant. The school morning played out exactly as it did previously for the blue cat. Anais bitterly ignored him, Darwin's anger reignited at being forgotten on their science report, and Miss Simian's lessons were the exact same in every boring detail. In an attempt to see Mr. Small, Gumball asked his bitter teacher several times if he could be excused, and even lied about needing to use the bathroom (the right one this time), but the baboon merely gleamed at what she thought was discomfort from Gumball holding in what he ate for breakfast.<p>

When he and the rest of his class entered the cafeteria, Gumball ignored the food and nudged straight down the lunch line to the smiling guidance counselor sitting behind his small table.

"Good afternoon, Gumball," said Mr. Small. "Want to take a guess at the coffee beans?" He patted the large plastic bottle on the floor, filled almost completely to the top with the small brown clumps that gave off the familiar aroma Gumball once smelled on a trip to his mom's office.

"Actually, Mr. Small, I have a serious problem that I _really_ need help with."

"I'm kind of busy right now," Mr. Small replied, motioning towards Juke and Molly who came up and observed the bottle. "And besides, wouldn't you want to talk about it in private?"

"In all honesty, I really don't care. I just need some help, right now."

"All right, then. How can I help you?"

Gumball did his very best to describe his situation, marking off every important point he could think of, like the repeating actions and events, including the one the guidance counselor was currently positioned at. Mr. Small, who listened while writing down the names of students and their numbered guesses, seemed to grow less smiley and more perplexed, as did a good share of Gumball's classmates who took note of his explanation and chose to listen.

When the explanation ended, Gumball found himself surrounded by perplexed faces and awkward whispering. A few moments passed with Mr. Small staring at the blue cat with a raised eyebrow. "That's…a really interesting problem, Gumball."

It was more than obvious that the counselor thought the cat had a few loose screws.

_Can't blame him_. _For all I know, I might_….

"I think I know what your problem is, though."

Gumball lifted his eyebrows, almost shocked. "You do?"

"Yes," Mr. Small folded his hands, his mystic vibe coming on. "You see, there are moments in our lives when we feel the tediousness of daily living, but we mustn't let the repetitive similarities weigh us down. Instead, we must embrace the little excitements that come to us with every new day."

"But that's my problem!" Gumball shouted. "I'm _not_ experiencing a new day! I'm stuck in the same one! It's been Monday three times for me!"

"Oh really?" came the skeptic voice of Masami, floating beside Rachel. "If you relived this day, Gumball, then how many coffee beans are in that bottle?"

The cloud girl's smug face brought a little red to Gumball's cheeks, both from embarrassment and frustration. "I don't know. I wasn't able to attend the Pep Fest and so I didn't get the number."

"Oh, sure you weren't," said Masami sarcastically.

"I'm serious! I was given detentions both times! The first for accidentally destroying half the library and the second for accidentally going into the girl's bathroom and seeing Rachel!"

"WHAT?" Rachel shrieked. And indeed, the other members of Gumball's class were surprised to hear this little tidbit.

"Never mind!" shouted Gumball, not wishing to be reminded of the stupid incident. "Look, Mr. Small, do you know anything _useful_ that can help me?"

The fluffy counselor seemed to ponder for a moment before forcing another smile. "Well, I can introduce you to my spiritual healing group. Great for people facing a midlife crisis or whatever I'm sure you have."

Gumball's eyes fell into annoyance. "Never mind."

As dissatisfaction heated inside his chest, Gumball planned to walk out from the circle of classmates when Carrie floated in front of him, holding her cake on its plate.

"Hey, Gumball," she said lightly. "Sorry to hear about your problem, but…can you please help me eat this — "

"NO!" Gumball shouted, flinging his hands up and knocking the plate out of Carrie's hands. Startled by what he just did, Gumball saw the ghost's face fill with shock and then sadness, and when the cake made its landing, her expression quickly turned back to shock. From behind her (and literally through her), many of Gumball's classmates shared Carrie's horrified alarm, and turning to where the cake landed, he saw why.

Standing with a tray of food in her hands, growling through clenched teeth, her wrinkly face half covered with chocolate mint cake, was Miss Simian.

"Oh, COME ON!" Gumball screamed to the heavens.

* * *

><p>Of course, Gumball was given detention again and received dirty glares from Miss Simian for the rest of the day. Penny wasn't too happy he missed the Pep Fest either, or for giving her the cold shoulder back on the bus ride to school. For the third time, Gumball had to face her disappointed frown. It wasn't as terrible like the first two times, but it still made Gumball's insides feel rotten. So rotten that he didn't care to ride the bus home; he needed some time to himself.<p>

Walking through town on the sidewalk, Gumball looked around at the people going about their daily business, trying for anything to take his mind off the dreadful situation he was, for whatever reason, trapped in.

Nothing helped.

When he finally reached his house, he hunched with a sigh, his head in decline.

"Is this all I have to look forward to from now on?" he asked out loud.

Gumball miserably paced towards the front door, never thinking his question would be answered.

"Hey, kid."

Hearing the gruff voice, Gumball's blue ears pricked up and he looked towards the fence. There, with hands hanging from the top of two planks, was Mr. Robinson, for once not looking irritated beyond belief.

"Mr. Robinson?" asked Gumball, walking over to the fence. "What are you doing?"

Looking down at the blue cat, the puppet responded, "Kid, you look like you're having one bad day."

Gumball sighed in agreement, "You don't know the half of it. Everything just keeps going wrong, and though you probably won't believe me, I've already experienced it all two times now."

"Oh, don't worry," said Mr. Robinson.

"I wish I could, but with what's happening, I don't think — "

"I believe you."

Gumball's ears twitched and his eyes widened to the size of tennis balls. The three words almost sang out like a euphoric blessing but also hit hard like a steel pipe to the nose. "What…did you…?"

"What, are you deaf?" Mr. Robinson frowned. "I said I believe you!"

For the first moment in the last two days, Gumball felt glee, and yet he was totally taken aback. He didn't know whether to be speechless or ecstatic.

"You…" Gumball breathed, shaking almost. "You know what's happening to me?"

"Unfortunately, yes, I do. You're stuck in the same day where nothing is changing and no one else notices."

Gumball hadn't expect him to be nearly this accurate, but still, it was joyous to hear.

"But…but how do you know?"

"Well, other than the fact I _also_ lived the same Monday as yesterday, in which absolutely nothing changed, I overheard you this morning when you were talking to your brother and sister."

"So…what _is_ happening to me?"

"Come over to my front door, we'll talk about it inside." Mr. Robinson then released his grip on the fence and dropped down, away from Gumball's sight.

Not wasting a moment, Gumball ran around the fence to the Robinson house where his neighbor was waiting by the open front door.

When Gumball stood next to him, Gaylord Robinson smacked his forehead and sighed. "I can't believe I'm actually allowing you into my house, but I'm making this one exception, given your problem."

* * *

><p>The Robinson's living room was just as Gumball remembered. The time he and Darwin did chores for their neighbors still held firm to memory, and he would've happily exchanged it for this day, if only he could.<p>

Gumball took a seat on the pink couch along with Mr. Robinson. The puppet appeared to be collecting his thoughts. Gumball took this time to look around at the floral wallpaper and antique knickknacks while eagerly wondering what answers Mr. Robinson would give him.

"Well, kid," the adult started, "to make this as simple as possible, you are — "

"What's _he_ doing in the house?" called a screechy voice. Margaret Robinson stood in the living room doorway, her hands on her hips and a frown stretching across her face. She looked as unhappy as ever, almost reminding Gumball of his mother this morning. Of course, his mother didn't have any of Mrs. R's old features like the two foot frown or the split end mop-like hair, which made the old woman look more crankier in appearance.

Mr. Robinson frowned. "Don't worry, Margaret. I just called the kid in to discuss something. It's nothing important."

Margaret still didn't look anywhere near cheerful, but replied, "Fine," and treaded heatedly across to the kitchen. "By the way, guess what's for dinner."

Mr. Robinson rolled his eyes. "Is it chicken alfredo?"

Gumball could tell that Margaret was surprised by how her eyes widened. "How did you know that?"

"Call it a wild guess," he answered dryly, and watched her walk out before turning back to Gumball. "Now, kid, to keep this question from popping up again, let me answer it right here.

"You are stuck in a time loop."

Gumball's eyebrows tilted. The phrase didn't connect with him at all. "A…time loop?"

"Yes. You know, like in that one movie."

"What movie?"

Mr. Robinson leaned in and whispered in Gumball's pointed blue ear.

"Ooooh. _That_ movie. Yeah, you're right," he smiled, remembering the famous comedy. "But why did you whisper? Couldn't you have just told me the title out loud?"

"I can't. That would be copyright infringement."

Gumball lifted an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Not important. Anyway, let's not lose track of what's going on. First thing's first, let's take a look at your left shoulder."

Gumball almost flinched at the request. "Why?"

"Because what I have to say next will be meaningless unless we know for certain that what's happening _is_, in fact, happening to _you_."

Gumball hadn't even looked yet and already he felt something on his shoulder that shouldn't be there. Truthfully, he didn't sense discomfort or anything physical, but Mr. Robinson's words somehow added a puzzling weight that Gumball couldn't force away. With no idea what to expect, Gumball gripped his sweater's collar and stretched it until his left shoulder was bare.

Gumball found it at once and almost choked on his breath. Showing through the blue strands of his fur was a symbol, black as an permanent ink stain, resembling a sideways number eight.

Mr. Robinson adjusted his huge square glasses and squinted at the foreign mark. He shook his head, "I thought as much. It _is_ you."

"What?" Gumball cried, uncomfortable at the unfamiliar sign. "What is this thing?"

"It's the mark of the Loop. Whenever someone becomes trapped by it, as you are, they are labeled with this sign."

"So, what does _that_ mean?" Gumball asked frantically, letting go of his collar.

"It means what I've already told you, that you're stuck in a time loop, and as a result, stuck with that mark. That is, until you get out of the Loop."

"So how do I do that? What can I — " Gumball stopped, frowning. "Wait! Mr. Robinson, how do you know about all this? And why do you remember everything when nobody else does?"

The old puppet sighed and leaned against the couch's brightly colored back. "I know about it because…it once happened to me."

Gumball felt his anxiety drift at Mr. Robinson's downcast look. It was reassuring to know there was someone else who knew of his condition and what he was going through, but the cat was also concerned at seeing his neighbor look so forlorn. He knew Mr. Robinson for his anger, but hardly ever for sadness.

"I was in my twenties," the old puppet explained, "just a month shy before Margaret and I got married. I'm not exactly sure what the original day was like, but all of a sudden I found myself reliving it. Wherever I went everyone was clueless, doing and discussing the same things. At first I thought I was dreaming, but I kept waking up and had to accept that I wasn't. And when I saw the mark, and found out what it meant, I couldn't kid myself any longer.

"As for why I still have my memory, I guess it's because I once experienced the Loop. It's only a guess, but I don't see what else it could be."

"So, what did you do? When you found yourself reliving the same day, I mean. "

"I don't know. It's been so long since it happened, I don't really recall what I did, at least not on the first few repeats. Besides, when you relive the same day over and over, you tend to try and find something new to think about, just to keep yourself fresh."

Gumball felt a twinge of disappointment. He had only lived this day three times and already it felt like a headache. What in the world was the rest going to be like, he wondered. "So…you don't know what I can do?"

"I didn't say that," said Mr. Robinson, sitting straight up again on his couch. "All I'm saying is that it's been a long time. I still remember the event, just not all the meaningless parts.

"The important thing is I escaped the Loop. You can too. Hopefully…."

Smiling, Gumball's heart renewed with hope and his brain invigorated with attention. "So what do I do?"

"Well, from what I learned, time loops usually happen because of one of two things; sometimes both. One, the person makes a terrible choice and it's so powerful that it puts them and their life in a repeating rut. Any bad choices made lately?"

Gumball's hands gripped tightly on the couch's pink cushions and the back of his throat dried a little. Images of that first Monday ran through his head like a jagged spike.

"It…kind of all started three days ago. Well, you know, three repeats ago."

"Yeah, I know, I relieved those days too, remember? Did you make a lot of mistakes?"

Sighing, Gumball nodded. "You haven't a clue how many."

"Well, that's a place to start. Try to set things right and see where it takes you. You have unlimited time, might as well make it as good as you can."

There was a rare trace of sympathy in the old puppet's voice, and Gumball could already feel a little extra hope for his situation.

"What about the second reason?" asked Gumball. "The other reason time loops happen."

"The second is when a person has forgotten something important or needs to learn something so. That's actually how I got out of my Loop.

"You see, kid, it may come as a surprise to you but I used to be _really_ crabby."

Gumball's serious expression fell. Smiling and stifling a few giggles, he sarcastically spoke. "No, _really_? _Used _to?"

Mr. Robinson apparently understood the reason behind Gumball's now audible laughing, because the puppet lowered his eyebrows in annoyance. "Okay! Okay! Maybe I do still act grumpy most of the time, but not like how I used to." And on that note, Gumball caught his breath and placed his full attention back on his neighbor.

"You see, I used to get so grouchy that I stopped thinking about calming down. It soon because natural for me to feel angry. The problem was I did it a little too much. So much that even Margaret got fed up with it. And after getting stuck in the Loop, you can only imagine how more annoyed I became. But after so many days of frustration, I got tired of it; I didn't see the use of being angry anymore, and it was then that I realized my frustration was the cause behind the Loop. Every day I had behaved that way, and so that's what every day became. My whole life had become a great big irritation. So, I learned to calm down, and eventually tomorrow came. Though I do often get grouchy, I've learned to be happy in my life."

"But I hardly ever see you smile, Mr. Robinson."

"That's because most of the time it's when you and your family aren't around," he said bluntly, but softened when he saw Gumball's eyes glisten with sadness. "But don't take it too personally, kid. What kind of neighbor would I be if I didn't at least try to help you with this problem, because let me tell you, not a lot of people experience what you and I have."

"Yeah, I kind of got that at school. Mr. Small suggested me to a 'group' or something."

"Forget the group. For starters, just go about your day without trying to make any mistakes. And if that doesn't work, I suggest you think of anything important you may not be realizing. Sometimes it's right in front of you. It was for me, once I tried something else besides anger."

"Oh…okay, Mr. Robinson," said Gumball, his expression grateful. "I'll work hard to make sure everything tomorrow goes perfect."

"That's nice. Now…GO AWAAAAAAAAY!" Mr. Robinson had screamed his usual catchphrase. Gumball blinked, and appeared startled and hurt. Mr. Robinson leaned in close and whispered, "Sorry, kid. Gotta make it sound convincing to Margaret."

"'Convincing'?" Gumball asked confused.

"Yeah, she expects to me always be mad at you. Now…GO AWAAAAAAAAY!"

Gumball leapt off the couch, shot for the door, and tried to shut it as he ran past, but the door bounced off the latch, leaving it open by a smidge. Mr. Robinson walked up to it in time to see his annoying blue neighbor disappear behind the fence separating their houses. With one hand pressed to his forehead, he grumbled, "This could take a while." Even though, he knew, the little cat had all the time in the world.

Or at least an unending 24 hours….

* * *

><p>Gumball ran past the fence and into the front yard of his house. His mind was twirling with thoughts from the conversation he just had with Mr. Robinson, both eager as well as anxious. He finally had answers, but they came to him like a car in a dense fog — he knew what was happening now, but any details or reasons why stayed blurred.<p>

Gumball stopped in front of the house's door.

Already, without entering, he knew that Darwin and Anais were seated on the couch, both grouchy from the annoyances he caused them. Gumball could only assume how his dad was because he didn't comment on his tie this time around. His mom was probably still angered by the little shock he gave this morning, as well as with the plate that didn't seem to want to vanish.

Since the day was already halfway done, Gumball assumed he would need to relive the day again before any improvement would come his way. His brother, sister, mother, and Penny were all mad at him and would probably remain so until they went to sleep and forgot everything. So, preparing for whatever his family had to throw this time around, he gripped the doorknob and turned it. As he did, Gumball rubbed his left shoulder, branded with a mark that now seemed more apparent in weight.

He stepped inside. As expected, Darwin and Anais were seated on the couch, neither of them in a good mood. Before Gumball could utter a word to them, he was caught off guard when two swift blue arms ensnared him and lifted him off his feet. Frantic, Gumball reacted by trying to free himself but his arms couldn't budge. He tried to scream but whoever grabbed him pressed hard against his mouth.

He was turned around and prepared for the worst.

He saw the smiling face of his mother. She pulled him into a tight embrace.

"There's my son!" She sounded absolutely giddy, like a little girl who just received a solid gold tiara. "Oh, I heard what you did in the cafeteria today!"

Gumball felt his insides tighten. "Mom, please! It was just a — "

"Oh, I know it was just an accident," she said grinning. "But it doesn't matter to me. You still gave that rotten baboon a taste of her own well-deserved medicine!"

"So…you're not mad at me?" he asked, a little taken aback.

"Mad? Of course not. I don't know how I could be more proud of you!" Placing him down, she eagerly rubbed the top of her son's head. "You just forget all about this morning and enjoy the rest of the evening. Wait here, I'll go get some cookies."

Gumball stood there speechless, his eyes still wide at his mother's change of heart. His siblings shared his bewilderment. Anais' mouth hung open and Darwin held his fins out, shaking in bafflement.

Gumball felt the hope he found at the Robinson's emerge again, along with a little warmth. It caused him to smile and even think positively. _"Maybe things will turn out okay today yet. Who knows, maybe I can reason with Darwin and Anais next_.

Nicole came back from the kitchen, still wearing her grin like a shiny gold metal. She held out a plate filled with cookies in her hand.

"Here you are, my little troublemaker. Take as many as you want."

Eager, though awkward, Gumball took the two biggest chocolate chip cookies from the pile. He remembered then that he hadn't eaten anything for lunch, and was quite famished. "Thanks, Mom. You sure you're still not mad about your plate?"

"Oh, sweety," she shook her head blissfully. "A plate may be a disappointment, but giving Miss Simian what she deserves, and in such a classic way, now that's — "

Nicole froze. The grin that practically showed every one of her teeth dropped slowly and produced a look of utter shock.

"What is that?" she said, eyes widened.

Gumball found the abrupt change in tone very discomforting. "What?"

"THAT!" Nicole snapped, dropping the plate of cookies to the floor. Gumball almost gagged on a chocolate chip as she yanked his sweater's collar and pulled it to one side. "Is that a — "

The gasp that escaped from her was almost earth shattering. Richard, Darwin, and Anais quickly gathered around and saw what had caused Nicole to lose her calm.

The father and his two children were perplexed, but Nicole was practically hyperventilating.

Right on top of Gumball's left shoulder was the deep black mark he was shown just minutes ago.

"A TATTOO!" Nicole growled, her teeth bare.

Of all the horror he had ever seen his mother exhibit, this easily felt the most life threatening. "Mom! Wait!" Gumball panicked. "It's not a — "

"NOT staying a moment LONGER!" she burst with the intensity of a bomb. Grabbing Gumball tightly by the wrist, she stomped out to the curb and threw him into the back seat of the car. Breathing like a dragon letting out smoke, Nicole slammed the driver side door so hard it shattered the window. The moment the engine began whirring, she slammed on the accelerator and rocketed down the street, knocking over a stop sign as she went.

Richard and his children were still in the doorway, stunned and frightened by Nicole's reaction.

"Was that a number eight on Gumball's shoulder?" asked Richard.

"I think it was the symbol for infinity," Anais answered.

"Oh…. Who's infinity?"

* * *

><p>"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T REMOVE IT?"<p>

Nicole was so close to exploding a fuse could practically be heard. The terrified tattoo artist held up his hands, shaking as he spoke. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I-I've tried everything I know! It's like the tattoo keeps overlapping what I put on it!"

But Nicole wasn't satisfied by this. "You're obviously not trying hard enough!" She shoved the artist to the ground and ripped off the curtain to the booth that held a very frightened Gumball.

His entire left shoulder stung like it had been stabbed a hundred times. Watching his mother pick up the dreadful instrument that caused it all, his pupils shrunk. "Mom! No! PLEASE!"

"No son of mine is having a tattoo!"

Outside, passing people stopped with various expressions of the sounds coming from the tattoo parlor.

"OWW! OWW! NO! WAIT! PLEASE! OWWW! AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Nicole didn't stop until every single bottle of tattoo removal was dry and gone from the parlor before driving home. Gumball laid in the back seat, shaking, feeling like he just got mulled by a roller coaster and crashed into a pool of glass. He could no longer feel his shoulder and was confident he would forever have a life-long fear of tattoo parlors.

Back home, Gumball was too shaken to eat dinner, which wasn't too big a deal. It was leftovers night. He laid on his bed, watching the alarm clock change numbers by the hour. He almost fell over the side when his mother walked in.

"Gumball," said Nicole, less angry but still firm. "I've called the hospital and you'll be going in first thing tomorrow to get that thing removed."

Gumball flinched in terror. The idea of going into an operating room and being around all those sharp instruments that cut, stretch, and pull…. His face lost most of its blue color, and was now utterly thankful that he hadn't eaten anything for dinner.

"Now," Nicole lowered her voice to a more calm tone, her eyes steady as she looked up to her son. "Would you mind telling me where and why you got a tattoo?"

Gumball closed his eyes tightly, frowning. "You wouldn't believe me no matter what I said."

He expected his mother to grow more angry at this refusal, perhaps even give him a spanking, something she hadn't done in years and something he never wanted to feel again.

But…when he opened his eyes…she looked a little hurt.

"Gumball…." She paused, looked as though she were about to say something considerable, but instead quietly responded, "Good night."

After she closed the door, Gumball was left alone again in the dimming room. The sun was nearly down and the night was starting to take full form, and Gumball felt like doing nothing else besides sleep.

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling as it slowly started to blur. His mind rushed with thoughts from Mr. Robinson.

_"…a place to start…. Try to set things right and see where it takes you."_

_"I suggest you think of anything important you may not be realizing."_

_"I escaped the time loop. You can too. Hopefully…."_

"Hopefully…" Gumball mumbled. "Hope…fully…."

Gumball murmured that single word over and over until his voice went still. As his eyes grew heavier, he couldn't stop thinking of what tomorrow might be. If the same day arrived, and he expected it to, then he would make sure he would give it his best to make it better. And, if by some joke the universe allowed tomorrow to come, in which he would be sent directly to the hospital for surgical tattoo removal, he prayed desperately there would be anesthetics; lots of them.

* * *

><p><strong>For any reviews, can you also tell me how my writing style is. Whenever I read it I can't help but wonder if there's something...missing from my style. Does it read easy? I mean, does it sound all right when you read it?<strong>

**As for the next chapter, I'll get to it. Hopefully you all won't have to wait so long this time.**


	6. Mending Mistakes, sort of

**Here's the next chapter. Thank you all so much for understanding, and thank you also for the reviews. They really inspire me to continue.**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING from the **_**The Amazing World of Gumball**_**, including characters, places, or any other references that may appear in this story. Not a thing.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

_Mending Mistakes (sort of)_

The night drifted on by as though it never arrived at all. When Gumball slowly opened his eyes to the shrill repeating buzz of the alarm clock, he found his room flowing with soft sunlight; not a trace of night anywhere.

Dropping down from his bunk bed, Gumball shot to the dresser and gripped the sides of the noisy clock, bringing its face in close with his.

The glowing green numbers read 6:20.

_Of course,_ thought Gumball, feeling slightly stupid. _That's when it's set to go off; what did I expect?_

Hitting the button and silencing the noise, Gumball placed the clock back on the dresser and tugged on his nightshirt's collar, exposing his left shoulder.

The mark of the Loop was still there, black like oil on his light blue fur. Hesitantly, Gumball pressed his fingertips onto the mark, ready to feel the hot raw nerves from yesterday's horrific tattoo scene.

However, just like with the tear-strained eyes from the first day, and the black eye Darwin gave him the second day, his shoulder did not tremble at his hand's touch. The terrible pain he felt yesterday was gone, and other than the fact that there was a black sideways 8 on his shoulder, everything looked perfectly normal.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Gumball took one brief moment to remember the awful feeling his shoulder went through yesterday. To his surprise, he couldn't remember how the pain felt — only that his arm felt near close to falling off.

The memory was there, but not the pain….

And with this detail, Gumball was confident that today was still Monday and thus his mother had never taken him to get (attempted) tattoo removal. More so, it also meant she never arranged the hospital appointment for surgery on his shoulder.

_ Speaking of which…_. Gumball headed on over to his closet. To make sure he didn't have a repeat with what happened yesterday, he would need to keep the mark on his shoulder hidden from sight. A sweater with a tighter collar should do the trick….

As Gumball searched his closet, the bedroom door opened and in walked Anais, dressed in her pajamas.

Rubbing her little hand over her sleepy face, she said with a yawn, "Morning, Gumball."

Gumball gave a light wave and, as was anticipated, Darwin emerged smiling from his fishbowl.

"Morning, buddy."

"Morning…" said Gumball, almost going into a mumble when he realized the simple fact.

It was, indeed, morning.

Another day, had begun…or at least another repeat.

His conversation with Mr. Robinson yesterday reemerged in his mind, fresh like the sunlight seeping into his bedroom.

_ "Try to set things right and see where it takes you."_

_ "I suggest you think of anything important you may not be realizing."_

Try to set things right…. At the moment, there was only one thing Gumball could think of, and without saying a word to either Darwin or Anais, he ran out the door.

Downstairs, he peaked around the living room corner into the kitchen. His mother was already there, dressed in her pink bathrobe, getting ready to put some bread down into the toaster. But before the slices reached the toaster's slot, she froze rigidly in place.

Slowly, she turned and looked towards the top of the refrigerator. A corner of her china plate was just visible over the edge.

Beyond the kitchen corner, Gumball watched, surprised and also a tad annoyed at her observation.

_ What, can she literally smell when something's wrong?_

Sure enough, Nicole reached up, grabbed the small plate, brought it down where she could see it better, and gasped.

Gumball's heart began to pound. Without actually thinking, he jogged into the kitchen.

"Mom, wait! Let me explain!"

Startled at his sudden appearance, his mother turned. Just as she was about to say something, her voice escaped her. Glancing again at her plate and then down to her son and his fretful expression, the realization clicked and her hands fell on her hips, "Okay." Frowning, she held up her plate, the largest part of the crack jutting up front. "What happened, Gumball?"

Her voice was carefully controlled, but it was clear that she was upset.

Tightening his fingers into his palm, Gumball swallowed as much courage as he could. He began hesitantly, "Well…last night, before I went to bed…I decided to have a cookie."

"And you decided to use one of my antique china plates for it, why?" she asked, sounding a little more upset but still collected.

"Well…" Gumball gulped, then steadied himself, "they were the closest thing for me to use. I didn't want to get crumbs all over the floor."

Nicole's impassive face didn't improve at all. She stared down at her son like a frustrated tourist trying to read an illogical roadmap. Using her thumb and index finger, she pinched the bridge between her eyes. Gumball forced as much strength as he could into his legs, readying for any outburst his mother would launch.

But instead, she sighed irritably. "Gumball, do you remember what I said about these plates?"

"Yeah," he said cautiously. "You said they were once your grandmother's and then your mother's, and that you want us to respect and care for them."

"So why didn't _you_?" she asked, her frown small but strong.

"I did! It just hit the bottom of the cupboard and broke while I was putting it back in."

"And why didn't you tell me about it right away?"

"You and Dad were already in bed, I didn't want to wake you." Gumball was only half-honest in this answer. He knew his parents were in their bedroom when he went to get his late-night snack, but he didn't know whether or not they were actually asleep. It didn't seemed to matter at the time. "So…I decided to wait until morning before telling you. I'm really sorry, Mom."

Nicole stared at him as though inspecting his posture. "_You_ decided to come and tell me what happened to my plate?"

"Yeah?" Gumball was confused by this suspecting tone. Technically, it WAS Anais who told him he should tell Mom, but TECHNICALLY she told him to do it last night. This time he went to the kitchen on his own before she could remind him. That makes it _his_ decision, right?

Still, his mother's stare remained fixed. Her pointed blue ears lowered onto her head and her eyes grew thinner as though she were scanning Gumball's face. Her son remained perfectly still, praying wordlessly that she would accept his apology.

_I came out and admitted it_, he thought. _That counts for something, doesn't it?_

The silence in the kitchen became so heavy it was almost crushing.

Finally, Nicole spoke. Her voice was calm. "All right."

Gumball's eyes widened at his mother's response. "What?"

"I accept your apology," she answered gently.

Gumball's face beamed, and before he could control himself, he wrapped his arms around his mother's legs. "Oh, thank you, Mom!"

Sighing, she said, "Yes, yes," before turning firm again. "But I want you to be more careful next time! You're lucky I have more than one of these plates."

Gumball was too happy to care. Releasing his embrace, he practically danced out of the kitchen as his mother threw the small plate into the garbage.

Gumball's eyes were closed when he turned the corner and happily pranced up the stairs to his bedroom to change. He never saw Anais at the foot of the stairs, glaring up at him as he closed the door.

* * *

><p>Gumball slipped on the new sweater he picked out from his closet, which was identical to his favorite sweater but with a lightly more stiff collar. It turned out to be a little <em>too<em> tight, so, as Gumball headed back downstairs, he tugged on the sides in hopes of loosening it; enough so he could breath but not too much that his mother or anyone else will catch glimpse of the Loop mark. Despite the fur that overlapped it, the mark proved quite noticeable to anyone who looked hard enough.

Gumball stepped into the dinning room where his mother, brother, and sister were seated at the table. His siblings were, to no surprise whatsoever, having Daisy Flakes for breakfast. Nicole was helping herself to a piece of buttered toast.

After sitting down, Gumball was given the Daisy Flakes by Darwin and happily enjoyed their taste despite having eaten them for the last three days in a row. Gumball guessed that it was his success with his mother and her plate that made the flakes sweeter. Either way, with his favorite cereal and the comfortably sunlit dinning room, little could beat how Gumball was feeling.

As Gumball took another spoonful, he still didn't notice the acidy looks Anais was giving him. Darwin did, but chose not to say anything.

A minute or two passed when, as Gumball expected, Richard walked in from the living room.

"HEY, everybody!"

He was wearing his new red tie.

"Good morning, family. Notice anything different?"

He held out his arms, expecting an answer to what he thought was obvious.

Gumball didn't need to think this over to know what to say. He let out a small excited gasp, catching the attention of everyone at the table. With as much surprise as he could fake, he spoke in a rather excited voice, "Dad, that is one **fancy** tie!"

Richard beamed, "Why, thank you, Gumba — "

"I mean, look at it!" Gumball hopped from his chair and moved in close. "It's so new you can practically see it shine!"

Gumball looked up at his father. He appeared quite surprised at his son's tone, but still looked happy.

_Yes! _Gumball thought. The ball was still rolling for him!

From behind him, his mother cleared her throat.

"Um, Richard, dear," she said politely. "Not that there's anything wrong with your tie, but…don't you wear one every day?"

Richard smiled, "Yes, I do, honey. But, you see, this one's — "

"New," Gumball cut in. Motioning his hand around his father's neck like a game show model, he went on, "Just look at it, Mom. The light red velvet, the glossy sheen, the perfectly snug length that's enough to fasten a collar yet keep the neck perfectly comfy. A very attractive compliment to the regular working," Gumball's eyes shot open, then quickly added, "and…er…non-working man!"

Gumball sighed mentally with relief. His brain had thought all of that up on the fly, and it was only after all was said that he realized just how silly and unusual it came out.

His mother, brother, and sister looked at him as though his head had sprouted a tree branch. Darwin had actually let some of his cereal drip from his spoon as he came close to taking a bite.

His dad appeared a little curious as well, but also looked flattered. "Wow…um…I didn't know it would give me comments like that. But thanks for all that, son," and Richard smiled, patting his son on the back.

_Score!_ Gumball thought. _Another mistake fixed! At the rate I'm going, tomorrow will be here by tomorrow, or maybe even before dinner!_

* * *

><p>Out on the sidewalk, Gumball and his siblings watched their mother drive off to work. She appeared in a calm mood which made Gumball feel all the more assured that things were going smoothly. Some speck of irritation for the plate probably still simmered somewhere in Nicole's head, but from the expression she was giving off, she most likely pushed it back far enough where it wouldn't be a problem anymore. Most likely.<p>

After her car disappeared around the corner, Gumball turned to his siblings. Darwin, as usual, was happy, but Gumball knew that if he wanted his brother to maintain that smile, he would have to somehow convince Miss Simian to give Darwin the credit he deserved on their science report when they arrived at school.

Gumball mentally slapped himself across the face for that moment of ignorance. How on earth could he have forgotten to do it?

Before his mind could whisk him off to that moment on Friday when he signed only his name on the report's top line, Gumball turned to his little sister and his mind stopped cold.

Anais was looking at him as though he were an irksome spec of paint on an otherwise perfect canvas. The cold gloss of her glare actually reminded Gumball of his mother.

"Something wrong, sis?" he asked, trying to sound as kind as he could.

"Yeah," said Anais, her clenched hands by her side. "You!"

Gumball gaped in confusion. "What are you — "

"**You lied**!" Anais shouted, her fur almost turning a hotter pink. "_I _told you to tell Mom about the plate!"

"I know!" Gumball frowned, incredulous at her attitude. "I followed your advice and told Mom this morning."

"And she asked if _you_ thought about apologizing and telling the truth about her plate! And you lied saying you did!"

"So what?" said Gumball angrily. "I still told her, didn't I?"

"Only because I told you the night before to do it!"

"SO?" Gumball practically screamed, "What do you want, a medal for thinking up the whole darned idea?"

"I just thought you'd be honest while admitting your faults!"

"MY FAULTS? You're the one who's making a big deal out of it! I apologized to mom for breaking her plate and she forgave me!"

"You still lied!"

"**Big deal**! It's over, isn't it?"

"Guys!" Darwin cried, cutting between them. "Stop fighting! Let's not let one little thing ruin our day, please!"

Gumball looked at his brother's pleading face and loosened his fists. Anais clamed herself, too. After letting off a huff, the two turned away from each other.

For the next few minutes, the three siblings just stood there, quietly on the sidewalk. Neither Gumball nor Anais looked at each other, and Darwin, standing between them, felt like a wall in the way of two hotheaded wreaking balls.

The school bus arrived and Darwin let off a thankful exhale. Anais shot Gumball one more dirty look before walking onboard.

Setting his first step on the bus, Darwin turned to his brother and whispered. "Just let it go, Gumball. For all our sakes."

"I am!" he whispered angrily. "She's the one making a big deal of it!"

"She's just trying to help keep you out of trouble."

"But I'm not in trouble anymore! Isn't that what she wanted?"

Darwin opened his mouth to speak, but stopped and shook his head. It was too early in the morning to argue about something like this. Better to enjoy the morning than argue, especially over something so foolish.

Gumball followed his brother onto the bus. Peering down at his seated classmates, his brain shot him a familiar picture. Every kid was seated in the same places Gumball remembered, doing the same things they did on the original Monday. Masami, Teri, and Molly were all sharing one seat, which was easy given that Masami could float. Tobias and Banana Joe were sitting together, trying to see who could make the best armpit fart and getting a few aggravated looks from those nearby. Rachel waved to Darwin, Alan floated nearby admiring Carmen, and Tina was bragging to Jamie about some pranks she pulled last week. And there, as Gumball passed by her, was Penny. Beautiful, smiling, waving at him while holding her white pom-poms.

Gumball donned the best smile he could and lightly waved, wishing he felt happier than he currently was.

_Just leave it to Anais to ruin everything_, he thought coldly, making sure when he sat down in the bus' back section that Darwin was between them.

As the bus began to move and Anais probably continued giving him irritant looks, Gumball kept his eyes forward and tried to keep his mind on the bigger picture. He had to make sure the rest of the day went perfectly, free of any mistakes that had plagued him throughout the last three repeats. He considered Anais' anger a childish grudge and would let it starve itself out, ignoring it for the unimportant detail it was.

_Now…_ Gumball pondered._ How do I fix Darwin's grade…?_

* * *

><p>Gumball thought and thought, and by the time he sat down at his desk in Miss Simian's classroom, his brain felt numb and dry.<p>

With a heavy and anxious sense in his chest, he turned to look up at the classroom's clock. Its hands were nearing closer to 8:00 and Gumball still didn't have any idea how to keep Darwin from getting that F.

The blue cat tapped his chin with one finger. He had thought up a number of ways to prevent Miss Simian from giving the grade, but most if not all of them required equipment, which he didn't have right now and probably couldn't find or afford if he had the extra time to plan. Besides, he was skeptical whether or not those plans would actually work. Normally he would try them regardless, but he didn't want to risk any screw ups. Minus the annoyances of his stupid little sister, the morning had gone wonderfully, and he wanted that good luck to continue.

He looked up for the time again. Five minutes to 8:00!

Sweat was now forming on Gumball's temples and he could feel his throat constrict with the tension at the approaching moment. He had to think of a solution, and quickly.

"Gumball, are you okay?" Darwin said after noticing his brother's panicked state.

But Gumball couldn't hear him as his mind swirled with vague ideas that barely connected.

Eventually, Gumball had to conclude that there was only one idea that seemed even remotely possible. The idea was a simple one and there was no assurance that it would work. For all he knew it could backfire on him completely. Knowing Miss Simian, so much could easily go sour for him, but it was all his brain could conjure up before class started.

He had to try.

"Gumball," Darwin called again, giving his brother's shoulder a shake. "I said, are you all — "

"I'll be right back!" he said.

Gumball pushed himself out of his seat, rushed to the door and out of the classroom. He shot his sight down the two long hallways. There, at the end of one, appeared Miss Simian, clenching a stack of papers that were soon to be the source of conflict between Gumball and Darwin.

Gumball sprinted towards her, his brain scrambling for what he was going to say. When he stepped in front of her, Miss Simian glowered like she always did when he was in her presence.

"Move it, Watterson!" she spat. "You're going to make me late to hear Principal Brown's morning announcements!"

"Miss Simian, please! I need to tell you something!" he said.

"Whatever it is, it can wait!"

Gumball quickly leapt in front of her as she made an attempt to push him aside.

The baboon's pale wrinkled face turned a light tinge of red. Through her square, off-white teeth, she spoke as though a fly had landed on her nose. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Miss Simian, it's about me and Darwin's science report!"

"I've finished grading them just before I left home," she said stiffly. "You'll have to wait until I hand them out to see it. And why do you look so frantic? Your grade isn't anything to be proud of. Darwin, however, I have to confess, I'm surprised at. I thought for sure he would have done better."

"He did!" Gumball said, the empty hallway intensifying his voice. "He did help me on our paper!"

Miss Simian seemed to tune down in anger, but her annoyance was still plain as day. "Then why didn't I see his name on the report?"

"That was just a slip up!" Gumball explained. "I was in a real hurry to get the paper wrapped up on Friday because I…uh…" and Gumball came to a halt. Despite how much his brain was pumping, he still couldn't piece together why he forgot to include his own brother's name on their lengthy assignment. In fact, any memory past Monday came as a blur, only in pieces and fragments. Probably just a result of the stress he was in right now.

Shaking his head, he continued, "Not important! But Darwin DID help me on the assignment. He worked really hard, so please, PLEASE don't give him that F!"

Miss Simian stood silent with an apathetic face. Then, the wrinkles near her mouth tightened. "I have told you already. I have graded the papers and they can only be submitted once! It looks like your brother is in for a rude morning, all thanks to your thoughtlessness!"

Gumball felt the hope he had gained at breakfast plunge like a vase onto solid ground, and Miss Simian seemed to take delight in his visible discomfort by how she smirked.

The wicked baboon walked passed him and Gumball stood powerless, listening to his teacher's footsteps as they stomped on his spirit. His mouth was agape and neither of his legs had the strength to move.

He was so close…. Things were going so well…. But Miss Simian had already graded the papers. He was too late to fix the mistake. It had already been made….

His heart groaned for actually thinking Miss Simian could've been reasoned with. It was no question to anybody what she would choose if she could either help Gumball or leave him on the floor to suffer and squirm. Miss Simian hated him and his family far too much to show any sympathy. Chances are, she never experienced it; not even once in the 300,000 years she's been alive. If there was a way to make him suffer greater, she would take it in a heartbeat. She...

Gumball's eyes widened. His mental cogs turned wildly at the new idea that appeared inside his head like a jack-in-the-box.

Not wasting a moment, Gumball zoomed back down the hall and wrenched Miss Simian's hand away just as she reached for her classroom's door.

"What do you want now?" she shouted, sneering like a rabid dog.

Releasing his teacher's hand, Gumball told her, "Give me the F, instead!"

Miss Simian's teeth stopped gritting. She lifted an eyebrow. "Come again?"

"Give my grade to Darwin, and give _me_ the F." Gumball couldn't believe he was saying it. He knew how much his mom hated the letter, but maybe the universe will give him points for self-sacrificing his happiness for another. That's always something people admire, isn't it?

Miss Simian frowned. "Why should I?"

"Because you want to," Gumball said simply, his mind feeling crafty all of a sudden. "Come on, Miss Simian. You must've felt cheesed at giving me a C when you graded me and Darwin's report."

Miss Simian's mouth fell. "How do you — "

"So cheesed while you sat in your ancient home on your scratched up desk that you started to grind your teeth. You re-read my report again, trying to find anything else to mark down my grade. Finally, you grimly conclude there's nothing else there. The weight of your teeth sink down into your lip; the irritated thought of me doing better than you expected surges through your blood like a stinging, gagging poison. Your monkey hand clenches your permanent ink pen. You squeeze it until the body snaps and the ink splatters. And then you just sit there, letting the streams of ink flow in through your teeth as you breath angrily."

Gumball paused, smirking, barely able to believe he was coming up with all this.

"Finally, you place the grade and drive to school. Your mind is too clouded with rage to notice the five cars you run off the road. You arrive at school. Your day is already ruined. But then, all of a sudden, that very student, whom you wish you could squash like a grape between your fingers, comes up and actually gives you permission to mark him with a failing grade. Your face is stunned, barely believing the gift from heaven that floated down and embraced you with your life-long ambition. The choice to make is obvious. And to think…it's the one you want."

Gumball stopped again, noting Miss Simian's speechless look. "Whoa…" she said, stunned but impressed. "You've got some persuasion skills."

"That's right," Gumball smirked. "And besides, Miss Simian, it's _me_ you hate, not Darwin. Given, you hate everyone in my family, but you loathe the very core of _me_. I, who annoy you more than anyone else; who annoys you deliberately."

He talked as though he were giving out compliments, rewarding himself by downgrading his character. And perhaps most disturbing, Miss Simian actually looked encouraged.

"Oh, and one more thing," Gumball leaned in close to Miss Simian's ear and whispered. "My mom will totally chew me up if I get an F."

Pulling back, Gumball smiled lightly and inwardly prayed. If all that hogwash he said didn't work, he knew he was buried.

With a finger to her smiling lip, Miss Simian grinned evilly, and replied. "Very well, Watterson. You've convinced me. I'll give Darwin your grade and leave you to suffer the wrath of your loser mother. Knowing Nicole, she'll probably make you eat your report, and maybe even the pen you used to write it."

Gumball would've breathed a heartfelt sigh if he wasn't pretending to look miserable to further convince Miss Simian. Nevertheless, he found it increasingly difficult not to smile at how he was able to turn this situation around.

Of course, that 'loser mother' part did cause some friction to pick up in his mind, but he let it go. His mother had taught him better than to let words rub the wrong way with him, especially when they came from _this_ person.

Miss Simian threw open the door and shrieked, "Class! I've finished grading — "

BEEP!

Her voice was cut off by the intercom. In joy, she listened to Principal Brown present his morning announcements. Gumball walked back over to his desk where Darwin was giving him a concerned look. Gumball smiled and reassuringly winked, and his brother, though confused, took it as a sign that things were fine.

"Chocolate mint cake?" Gumball heard Carrie say behind him.

_Yep,_ Gumball thought. _Everything is going right on schedule_.

After the announcements, Miss Simian handed the first science report to Banana Joe. When she came to Gumball's desk, she pulled out a red pen from one of her dress pockets, clicked it, and quickly scribbled on two of the reports from the thick stack.

With a smile that would traumatize a dentist, she slammed the report and score sheet down onto Gumball's desk.

"F, loser!" Miss Simian said. "And to think," she added loud enough for the class to hear, "it's because you forgot to put your own name on your report."

And sure enough, the majority of Gumball's classmates laughed at this. Tina's masculine-like voice resounded out of the bunch. Gumball, who's cheeks burned with embarrassment, forced his face to remain straight and swallowed the pain, thinking only of the grade Darwin deserved.

"C, fish," Miss Simian said rather plainly. "Don't get your hopes up."

After checking over his grade, Darwin turned to his brother, an eyebrow raised. "You forgot to put your name on our science report?"

"Yeah…" Gumball sighed, pretending to be bummed, "I guess so, Darwin."

Darwin looked at him skeptically. "That's…kind of careless, Gumball. You really should've paid better attention."

"I know."

"I mean it, though," said Darwin in utter seriousness. "Ever since you heard about the Pep Fest on Friday, you've hardly noticed anything around you. You've…kind of been in other places, you know?"

Maybe Darwin was right, but Gumball wasn't paying attention now.

He was thinking about how he prevented his brother from getting angry, and thus avoiding another mistake. At the moment, it wouldn't have mattered if the F he received were written in his own blood and would follow him for the rest of his life. So far he was fixing (or at least improving) every mistake he had made from the original Monday. And because of the feelings he received knowing that, he excepted his F warmly. If tonight he falls asleep and sees tomorrow, it'll just be another bad grade and memory beneath his belt, and that was fine by him.

Gumball felt so at ease that he stretched in his seat and rested his arms behind his head.

"Miss Simian," called Molly, holding up her plump black arm. "Can I use the bathroom?"

"Sure, fine, whatever," the teacher said while handing out the last of the reports.

Molly walked up to the front of the room, and Gumball, who couldn't resist, called out with a smirk, "Say 'hi' to Rachel for all of us, Molly!"

The small dinosaur turned to look back with her eyebrow raised: an expression matched by the rest of the class. Even Miss Simian blinked, confused by what Gumball had just said.

_Yep_, Gumball grinned. _All on schedule_.

* * *

><p>Gumball had never felt more confident while in school. Although his preventing the anger and upsetting of his family members was the majority of his eagerness, he couldn't help but feel slightly brilliant as Miss Simian went through the morning lessons.<p>

Having lived this day three times now and sat through Miss Simian's ancient scratchy lectures, Gumball had no trouble concentrating as his teacher played out her lesson plan.

"And now time for a pop quiz!" she said. Apart from Gumball, several of the students groaned at the words. Miss Simian took delight in their misery as her gleaming, snakelike eyes fell on the blue cat up front. "You first, Watterson!"

Gumball calmly stood from his desk, walked a few feet forward, and turned to face the class.

"Watterson!" shouted the teacher. "Kindly tell the class the six noble gases."

Miss Simian smiled wickedly, greedy for another chance to humiliate her least favorite student.

For a brief moment, Gumball remembered back to the first Monday, trying to form what he could remember the weekend before it. He had forgotten to read the small section on chemistry which included a few basic facts about the science and the main elements from the periodic table. It was homework that had been assigned on Friday. For whatever reason (perhaps laziness), Gumball didn't read it.

And he still hasn't read it.

Miss Simian's already huge leer grew even more teeth when she saw concern fill Gumball's face. But it wasn't for the reason she thought. Gumball dreaded if this lapse in memory was considered a mistake and part of the reason he was in the Loop, and if it was it meant he had already messed up and would have to relieve the whole day over again. But Gumball decided, more out of desperate hope than certainty, that it probably wasn't. He and Darwin (though mostly him) had forgotten to read assignments many times before, and didn't see why this particular reading was anything significant.

As for the actual question on the noble gases, Gumball's assurance remained steady. Miss Simian had, during the last few repeats, called on another student, Carmen, who perfectly recited the gases after Gumball fumbled trying to answer.

With a calm smile, Gumball closed his eyes. "All right. The six noble gases are…. Helium, neon, argon," he paused, trying to visualize the next word inside his darkened sight. "Xenon, …radon, and…" Gumball's mind hit the wall. _Come on, Gumball!_ he thought frantically._ You've heard this three times now! What's the last gas? What did it start with?_

"TIME'S UP!"

Gumball's eyes flew open and he fell backwards with a yelp. Miss Simian had snuck up to him while his eyes were closed and screamed in his ear.

His eardrums aching, Gumball could hear Miss Simian cackling.

"Such a shame. You were so close," Miss Simian smirked down at the blue cat, laying on his back. "Close but no cigar! Back to your desk, loser!"

Gumball felt his cheeks burn a little, but not from embarrassment. This time is was growing hot aggravation. Right now he had a VERY good idea of how his mom felt about Miss Simian. Never had he wanted to punch someone so badly….

After Gumball sat back down at his desk, Miss Simian told the class, "The last element which Gumball failed to remember, by the way, is krypton." Her face, still holding to that awful grin, closed in on Gumball's, causing him to lurch back in his chair. "Better luck next time, loser!"

She let off a demented laugh, and a few classmates followed suite, though not as strongly.

Darwin placed a fin on his brother's shoulder. "It's okay, Gumball," he said gently. "You were close."

"Oh, it's all right, buddy. I'm not bothered by it," and to this Gumball was totally honest. There were still many hours left in the day and the things he was concerned with didn't involve anything from an assignment he forgot to read. And why would it?

Getting out of the Loop was the more vital assignment right now. He had to stay focused on the present moment and push everything else out, and pray that when all was done he would have the keys to tomorrow.

* * *

><p><strong>And that's it for now, everybody. As always, your advise, comments, and reviews are warmly welcome, whether they be positive or negative. I can hardly wait to see where the next chapter takes me in my story!<strong>


	7. Loose Ends

**Hello, everyone. Firstly, allow me to apologize for the delay. These first few weeks back at school have been busy with nonstop reading. Given the workload I have, I may only be able to publish one chapter a month. Rest assured, though, I will keep writing.**

**The new season of _TAWoG_ is going well so far, I think.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

Loose Ends

Darwin couldn't take his eyes off Gumball as they entered the cafeteria with their classmates. It had been three and a half hours since the school day started and since that time Darwin hardly found a moment when Gumball had not been smiling. By now it was becoming uncomfortably awkward.

When the two lined up for lunch, Darwin finally decided to say something. "Wow, Gumball. You sure have been…happy ever since Miss Simian gave you that F."

"Yep," the blue cat turned, smiling merrily, "I have. But that's not why I'm smiling."

"It's not?" The awkwardness grew. All this time, Darwin thought Gumball had been smiling (who-knows-why) over the grade he received that morning. The scene was still fresh in his memory, not only because he felt sorry for his brother after all the work they went through, but mainly because of how Gumball seemed to accept it. Darwin knew, confidently and fearfully, that when their mother finds out, and she _will_ find out, it will be nothing to smile about.

"So…" Darwin said, one eyebrow raised, "why are you smiling?"

"Because we're going to sit together at lunch!"

Darwin paused for a moment, and then gave a small laugh. "Well, of course we're going to have lunch together, Gumball. We do it every day."

Gumball said nothing at first, but then patted his brother gleefully on the back, "I know, but it's just a good feeling, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess…."

The two boys each grabbed a tray and moved down with their classmates as Rocky ladled their food. The multigrain pasta mixed evenly with the seasoned meat sauce. The diced carrots and mixed fruit displayed freshness with their colors and texture. And of course, the rich, cool smell of chocolate mint cake delighted the senses even before it reached the tray. For a drink, Gumball grabbed a small milk carton and Darwin took a juice box.

The two reached the end of the line where a smiling Mr. Small finished writing down the numbered guesses of Juke and Molly.

As the guidance counselor turned to the two boys, his face remained placid. "Ah, Gumball and Darwin. Would you two like to take a guess at the coffee beans? You could win a prize at Pep Fest if your answer comes close."

Mr. Small patted the large plastic bottle on the floor, and it suddenly occurred to Gumball that, for the last three repeats, he had totally ignored this challenge. He had been too depressed on the first day, too confused on the second, and his head too full of questions on the third to even give the little guessing game any thought. This time, however, the bottle really grabbed his attention, and in a rather pleasant way.

The fresh, inviting smell of coffee, that he smelt many times before at home and his mom's office, rose out of the bottle's spout. Inhaling, Gumball felt some eager pull to give the game a chance. Things were going very well for him this time around; he figured he might as well have some fun.

"Sure, why not?" Gumball shrugged his shoulders.

"Great!" the counselor beamed and added Gumball's name to the list, now on its third page. "So, how many do you think there are?"

Gumball placed his tray of food on the corner of Mr. Small's table and moved in close to get a good look at the bottle. It was quite huge, even for just 10 gallons, and looked very heavy. The brownish black beans were so tightly crammed that Gumball could hardly distinguish one from the other through the clear, thick plastic. Given the small size of the beans, Gumball's confidence in making a close guess shrank even smaller. There could be well over 10,000 beans in there for all he knew. Having missed the Pep Fest for the last three times, Gumball never got the answer to how many there were, and he never bothered to ask Darwin or Anais since both had been too angry to glance at him, let alone chat.

Seeing Tobias and the Eggheads line up behind Darwin, Gumball didn't want to risk holding up the line and gave out the first number to randomly pop into his head (without thinking twice).

"79!"

He shouted much louder than he meant to and grabbed many unwanted glances.

Mr. Small lifted an eyebrow, turned to the bottle on the floor, and then back to Gumball. "Uh…really?"

"Hundred, I meant!" Gumball said, realizing his stupidity. "7900, is what I meant to say."

Mr. Small's confusion dissipated at once, and he happily wrote down Gumball's guess. "Got it, Gumball. Good luck, and remember, no matter what, we're all winners!"

Gumball simply nodded the comment away and grabbed his tray off the counselor's portable table, letting Darwin up to have his guess.

Not bothering to study the bottle, Darwin closed his eyes, smiling, "9999."

"All right. Four nines," said Mr. Small, his pen moving as he spoke. "Good luck, Darwin. And remember, we're all winners!"

Beaming, Darwin moved along with Gumball out from the lunch line and towards their usual table when a sweet-sounding voice called nearby.

"Hi, Darwin."

It was Rachel, seated at a table quite a distance away from where Gumball and Darwin usually sit.

Darwin, being the sweet fish he was, walked up to his girlfriend with a very caring expression. Gumball followed, keeping his distance from the two.

"Hey, Rachel," his brother greeted.

"Would you like to have lunch with me?" she asked.

Much to Gumball's surprise, Darwin actually took the time to consider her offer. He had hoped to use this time to make amends for the lost lunches with Darwin from over the last three days — times when Darwin's mood had been the equivalent of rotting fish served on razor ware. Besides, Darwin had, though unknowingly, already eaten lunch with Rachel three times during the repeats.

Then again, being stuck in the Loop, Gumball knew those lunches technically never happened. Nevertheless, things were still playing out as they had before, regardless of the alterations he made.

Darwin answered with a smile, "Sure. Gumball, you don't mind, do you?"

Somewhere in Gumball's head, a part of him really wanted to sneer and drag Darwin to the table at the cafeteria's other end; even curse Rachel for thinking she could ruin his day's expectations. However, Gumball learned not so long ago to never be green with envy (literally speaking). Plus, he could tell that Darwin really wanted to sit down with Rachel, _and_ that he wanted to spend that time with her alone.

With a light sigh, Gumball smiled softly, "Sure, go ahead. I'll see you in the library, buddy."

"Okay," Darwin beamed and took his seat. "Thanks, Gumball."

"Yeah, thanks," Rachel added sincerely, and the two politely waved as the blue cat left them alone.

Gumball walked past the lunch tables to his usual spot, feeling some disappointment but nothing worth grudging over. He couldn't hate Rachel for liking his brother, nor could he be mad at Darwin for wanting to spend time with the girl he liked. The two were sincerely happy together, and as his brother, Gumball was happy for Darwin. How could he ever think of being mad at a blossoming relationship, especially when he _himself_ liked a girl?

Glancing over at Penny, seated only a few tables down, Gumball felt that warm fluttery sensation he got whenever she and her sweet face entered his sight. Oftentimes he had considered walking over and asking if they could sit together and eat lunch, but more often than not, like today, those sides were filled by either Teri, Molly, Carmen, or another girl.

_Oh well_, Gumball thought. _You can only do so much in one day_….

Sitting down, Gumball helped himself to some fruit and mixed a little cake in with it, forming a bizarre yet interesting flavor as he chewed. The pasta seemed to dry his mouth a little, but the moist and seasoned meat sauce was mixed perfectly, and even went well with the carrots. Eventually, all that remained was the chocolate mint cake which Gumball washed down with his milk. It was on his final bite that Carrie floated up next to him, holding her own slice of cake on a plate.

"Hey, Gumball," she said mildly. "How are your ears?"

On this unexpected question, Gumball swallowed the last of his cake a little harder than he liked. After a few coughs and clearing his throat, he looked up at the ghost perplexed. "My ears?"

"Yeah. Miss Simian shouted pretty hard during the pop quiz. Me and Penny thought you might've gotten a headache."

"Oh," said Gumball modestly. "I'm fine. It stung for a little bit, but didn't last too…Penny was worried about me?" his attitude and face brightened cheerfully at the thought.

For a moment Carrie appeared caught off guard somehow, but then responded, "Of course she did. And why wouldn't she? I know how you two feel. Everyone does."

Gumball noted her quiet face, wondering if there was something else on her mind.

_Probably the cake_, he thought. _Speaking of that…._

"So…Gumball," said Carrie. "I was wondering if you — "

"Oh, look at the time!" Gumball said abruptly, pointing to the cafeteria's wall clock. "It's nearly time for study hall! Well, I better head onto the library and start on that assignment. See ya, Carrie!"

Gumball rushed out of the cafeteria before Carrie could even call out for him to wait. When the doors closed behind him, he let off a great sigh of relief. It was the most calm exit from the cafeteria he had in the last three days.

Meanwhile, back in the lunchroom, Carrie remained facing the door where Gumball had just walked out.

Darwin noticed her expression as he approached the exit and stopped beside her. "What's wrong, Carrie?"

Carrie didn't answer, but her dejected stare fell to her plate, and at once, Darwin understood.

"You wanted Gumball to help you eat that cake?"

Frowning, Carrie bleakly said, "Yeah…."

"Oh."

Seeing just how disappointed she looked, Darwin gritted his teeth before asking, "Would…would you like _me_ to help you eat that cake?"

The ghost girl turned and stared at him for a moment, but then shook her head. "Thanks, Darwin, but no. Lost my appetite. Here, you can have it," and she dropped the plate holding the dessert into Darwin's fins before floating to the exit with her head hanging.

Ignoring the big piece of cake and its rich scent, Darwin watched with sympathy as Carrie drifted away. Of course, Darwin understood his brother's refusal. The last time Gumball allowed Carrie to use his body, he ended up gaining well over a hundred pounds — pounds he miraculously managed to lose in a matter of minutes, but still, that was a lot of weight to put on over and over again. But there was something else on Darwin's mind that he couldn't quite understand.

As a ghost, Carrie is able to possess other bodies if she wants to eat. There was still about two minutes left before lunchtime ended, and Darwin knew she could've used his body to quickly devour the cake and be out before the bell rang. Plus, from what Rachel had told him when they ate lunch, Carrie was gaining some control when she possessed someone and learned to resist most of her hungry urges. Having seen Carrie eat before, Darwin was a little skeptical, but he trusted Rachel, and therefore thought Carrie deserved a chance.

_So why _didn't_ she use me? _he wondered. And why, out of all the people in the lunchroom, did Carrie first approach Gumball?

* * *

><p>Not too long until the bell rang, Gumball entered the library with his classmates and watched them walk off to their expected corners. Bobert seated himself at a computer to type into a mess of numbers and mathematical symbols. Teri, Masami, and Molly worked together in carefully pulling down their Great Wall project from atop one of the bookshelves. Carmen and Leslie picked out a table and started skimming through a stack of books, their history paper resting beside them. Everyone matched the actions Gumball had seen before, even going about having the same whispered discussions.<p>

_ And, as expected_,_ none of this fails to creep me out_, Gumball thought.

Around the area where Bobert was working, Gumball began scanning the bookshelves for a thesaurus. He still hadn't made any progress with that writing assignment Miss Simian gave him and he figured, as long as he was fixing mistakes, he might as well try and do his homework.

_ Not like there's anything else to do right now_, he thought.

As he shifted towards Bobert, Gumball made sure to keep extra attention at his feet, wary of the book that caused so much chaos on the first day. Sure enough, Gumball found it lying on the stiff carpet.

_Not this time, you fish-wrap!_ he thought with a smug expression.

Picking the book up off the floor, Gumball blindly placed it on the nearest shelf and continued on. At the very corner of the shelf, he found the thesaurus right next to the dictionaries.

After picking a seat not far from Leslie and Carmen, Gumball opened the hefty book to the first page it would land and let it sit while he tried to bring about his focus. Currently, it was too bent on escaping the Loop to care about the assignment, but Gumball had an inkling that he should do something besides sit like a drone.

_But where do I begin?_

Before looking down at the book, his memory reeled back to the instructions Miss Simian handed him last Monday. He and his classmates were in the library, each being assigned to write a paper on one particular subject.

* * *

><p>"Watterson!" Miss Simian cried in her shrill voice. "Quit staring at Penny and listen!" Gumball remembered feeling his cheeks flush from embarrassment, but seeing Penny blush as well made it slightly more comforting.<p>

The dusty smelling baboon continued, "Seeing that your grades have as much potential as a bicycle with no pedals, I don't think you can handle the workload the rest of the class was given. 700 words is obviously too much for your pea-sized brain to cough out.

"So," her eyes narrowed and smile lengthened, "I'm assigning you 800 words."

Gumball's gasp was overpowered by the quantity that escaped from his classmates. Darwin, Penny, and (for whatever reason) Carrie were the most startled.

The librarian, strict in the face, replied, "SHHHHH!"

Miss Simian went on, "800 words, Watterson. Any less and it's an F! As for the subject…well," she chuckled, "I would be inhuman to actually give YOU a subject to research, so I'll let you write it on whatever you choose.

"As for when it's due," she chuckled again, this time more hysterically, "well, let's see if you can actually get started."

Now gripping her sides, Miss Simian started to laugh so hard she could no longer stand. Everyone in the library, even the librarian, was taken aback by this strange sight.

* * *

><p>Back in the present, Gumball frowned with annoyance. Shaking his head, he let the frustrating memory fade.<p>

"I'll show her," he grumbled quietly. "I'll write a paper so good she'll lose her sanity over it! Okay, let's get to it!"

Determination filled his spirit and Gumball was certain that, despite the situation he was still trapped in, he would come out victorious.

But first, his paper needed a subject. Hopefully the thesaurus will hold a few ideas. Maybe a certain word will click and inspire him.

With his hand held high and his eyes closed, Gumball brought his finger down onto the book's middle section. He opened his eyes and read the word printed in black.

**Ignorant****-**_ oblivious, illiterate, unenlightened_.

Frowning, Gumball blindly flipped a few pages and dropped his finger onto another word.

**Reminiscence****-** _nostalgia, musing, remembrance_.

Intimidated by the complexity of the word "nostalgia", Gumball flipped the pages in reverse.

**Consideration****-** _attention, thoughtfulness, importance_.

Gumball continued flipping through the many thin pages, taking no longer than a second to glance at each new word before looking up a new one.

After a few minutes, Gumball closed the book and slumped his elbow onto the table, his fist pressed into his cheek. He was getting no inspiration anywhere and felt his luck begin to drift as a result.

_I think this is what Miss Simian wanted, _he grumbled quietly. _A subject may be tricky, but at least I'd have something to start with._

Gumball got up from his chair and paced around the library. He walked around the shelves, his fingers rubbing his forehead in hopes of forcing some extra blood to pump through his brain. Unfortunately, all this seemed to do was increase his mental block.

What was most irritating wasn't the assignment; it was knowing how might not really matter. There was no stated due date on this paper so how could the Loop press him to get it done? And even if he got started, any work would just be erased when he woke up on the next repeat.

Stopping in his tracks, with two large, packed bookshelves on each side, Gumball stewed in the library's silence.

He sighed once and waited, hoping an idea would appear somehow and call out for him to find it.

All he heard was dry pages turning, a few inaudible whispers coming from all directions, and the quiet yet heavy ticks of the wall clock up ahead.

* * *

><p>Gumball left study hall without a topic. A bit of a let down, yes, but he concluded that, should he be penalized for this by the Loop, he'll have more than enough time to eventually think of a subject. Thus, he put it out of his mind.<p>

The rest of the school day in Miss Simian's classroom was drab, to say in the least. Although Gumball had a clear memory of the subjects discussed and any answers to questions Miss Simian threw, he didn't feel like raising his hand to answer them. His mind became consumed by the upcoming Pep Fest and the mounting excitement that, after three failed attempts, he would finally be allowed to watch Penny cheer.

The growing thrill in his stomach was so rich and powerful Gumball had to bite his lips to keep from laughing.

At recess, Gumball relaxed on the blacktop by playing 20 Questions with Darwin, a game which Anais suggested they play on account of all their other games being either, as she put it, "Brain-rotting or just downright stupid to play."

The simple game turned out to be very entertaining.

"Are you something you find in the house?" asked Gumball.

"Nope," Darwin smiled. "That's 17, Gumball."

"Are you something anyone can see outside?"

"Yes."

"Are you a flower?"

"No. Last guess."

"Are you…a tool shed."

"Nope! I'm an acorn!"

Darwin proved, after 43 straight wins, to be very good at this game. Perhaps it was a newfound talent or just the fact that Gumball was a poor player, but on more than one occasion the blue cat needed far more than 20 guesses to piece together the image in Darwin's orange head.

The game's next round came to a halt when a soft voice spoke from the side.

"Gumball?"

It was Penny.

Instantly, Gumball melted into a puddle of emotions and turned lovingly towards the girl he adored most, but that admiring and goofy look departed at once.

Standing beside Penny was Carman and Molly. All three of them appeared deeply worried.

"Gumball, have you and Darwin seen Teri?" Penny asked, gripping tightly onto her pom-poms.

Putting his deep feelings off to the side, Gumball glanced around the blacktop, but the soft-spoken paper bear was nowhere to be seen amongst his other classmates.

"Sorry, Penny, but I don't know where she is," he said. "Isn't she supposed to be getting ready for the Pep Fest along with you three?"

"Yeah," Penny said with worry. "We were suppose to meet in the gym after class but she still hasn't shown up."

His eyebrow raised, Darwin replied, "That doesn't sound like something Teri would do."

"It isn't," said Carman. "She's always taken her cheering seriously and she's always been ready before."

"Our routine won't be nearly as good without her," said Molly, searching anxiously over the faces across the blacktop.

"Maybe she got stage fright?" Darwin suggested. "I hear she can be shy sometimes."

"Not when we cheer together, though" replied Molly. "When we face a crowd, we all have each others backs. Besides, she's been looking forward to the Pep Fest ever since she heard about it."

_She and me both, _Gumball thought.

Despite how little he knew about the friendly paper bear, Gumball knew Teri would never be late for cheer, and she certainly wouldn't keep her friends waiting unless there was a reasonable

The answer came to him, and with it, Gumball's breathing stalled.

Two repeats ago, when Darwin had punched him, he went to the nurse's office and arrived just as Teri walked out, her right leg slightly crumbled. He had asked her if she was all right, but the paper bear wouldn't speak to him, still aggravated with the bathroom incident he had with Rachel and Molly.

Recalling how Teri limped away caused concern to bubble in his stomach. Gumball's face must've expressed this worried thought, because, back in the present, he heard Penny say, "Gumball, are you all right?"

Snapping back to his senses, Gumball quickly replied, "Yeah, I'm fine. As for Teri," he steadied his voice, thinking before he spoke, "maybe she might be in the nurse's office?"

The three girls and Darwin gave him a surprised look.

"The nurse's office?" said Molly. "Why would she be there?"

"Well, this is just a guess," though Gumball knew perfectly well it wasn't, "but she _might_ have went to the nurse's office for some reason or other. I've heard she goes there a lot. Being made of paper might be a reason for that, you know?"

The girls still looked curious and for a moment remained silent, apparently thinking over the possibility.

"Well, a guess is as good as anything," Carmen concluded. "Come on, girls."

She and Penny sprinted back towards the school. Molly moved a little slower and gave Gumball a puzzling look before she disappeared beyond the door.

* * *

><p>At recess's conclusion, the bell rang across the blacktop and Gumball could practically hear his heart singing as he and Darwin walked inside with their class.<p>

He could hardly believe it was happening. After three miserable failures, he was finally going to the Pep Fest. Even better, he will watch Penny cheer and applaud to her until he lost feeling in both hands. The things he dreamed about, the event that occupied _every_ inch of his attention since he heard about it in on Friday, was finally coming to reality; a reality **he** would be part of.

Gumball stopped outside the gym doors, staring miraculously as people filed in. His heart beat madly and he wondered if this was what pure happiness felt like.

"Uh, Gumball, are you going to go in?" asked Darwin.

Shaking his head to put his senses back in line, Gumball walked forward through the doors with Darwin by his side.

The gym was alive with chatter. Underneath the large fluorescent lights, the bleachers held many conversing students from each grade and were gaining more as they came in and found places to sit.

Darwin led the way to where those in their class had gathered and Gumball followed, noticing the familiar faces as they drew near.

Tina and (however possible) Hector were located in the back row; Tobias and Banana Joe were near the front making jokes; Leslie and Alan were chatting in their high voices near the back; and Bobert was with Ocho and the Eggheads, all looking very smug.

Following Darwin, Gumball walked up to the middle row and noticed they were heading towards Rachel who was talking to someone, though he couldn't see who.

Smiling, Gumball shook his head. Of course Darwin would want to sit with his girlfriend. No big deal, though. Rachel and him may not be on best terms yet, but she's not as great a pain as Gumball once thought, especially after she and Darwin started going steady. What mattered most was that his brother liked her, and she liked him back. If she made Darwin happy, then Gumball was happy too.

But any happiness of the sort evaporated almost instantly when Rachel turned her colorful head of hair and Gumball saw who she had been talking to.

Gumball's eyes warped into a glare, and the little pink rabbit copied the cat's face in all its unpleasant likeness.

"Had a nice day, liar?" said Anais, her voice bitter as poison.

"Yeah, I have" Gumball stood rigidly, his hands curled into fists. "And it's been especially good since I didn't have to see you at all!"

Darwin and Rachel shifted uncomfortably between the two siblings, feeling more tightly cramped than they really were.

Deciding that Anais' childish squabble wasn't worth his time, Gumball sat down, folded his arms, and focused on the gymnasium floor. His imagination went to work, wondering what he would see — what he would've seen if so much hadn't gone so wrong in the past three repeats. From the applause and shouts he heard when he was stuck in detention, it sounded like the Pep Fest was truly something to witness.

Gumball's spirit elevated, knowing the grand spectacle was only moments away. But then, his mind shot him a dreadful reminder: Teri's crumpled leg.

Gumball hadn't considered whether or not it would cause a problem. If the injury was painful for Teri, would it cause her to mess up Penny and the others as they cheer, or will she simply not bother and just sit out while the other girls performed? This twinge of anxiety expanded as Gumball thought over the possibilities, remembering that Molly said she and the others needed Teri in order to successfully pull off their routine.

Then again…Gumball remembered seeing Teri after the Pep Fest on the second Monday, standing alongside Carmen and Molly when they called Penny away to prepare for the game. Given his sadness that day, he didn't pay much attention, but as far as he could recall, Teri looked fine.

Gumball pressed a hand to his head and tried to push off the stress. Certainly everything will go well. Minus Penny's wounded feelings, the Pep Fest was great the last three times when he wasn't there. What could happen now to put that fact differently?

* * *

><p>All the bleachers in the gymnasium were packed with students when 3:00 clicked into place. Gumball, sitting near the middle, gazed intently at the cheerleaders sitting to the leftmost side. There, Penny, Molly, and Carmen were talking to Teri. Gumball could hardly make out their expressions through the crowd of mixed-shaped heads, but they looked fine…as far as he could tell. An encouraging look from Penny and a pat on Teri's shoulder from Molly were probably just in preparation for the upcoming event. At least, that's what Gumball desperately hoped.<p>

Gripping his knees, Gumball kept telling himself over and over that things will be fine. Penny will be fine. But no matter his attempt, his mind held a thin veil of worry that refused to go away, and for a few particular reasons. One, the looming thought of Teri's injury and what might come of it. Two, the fact that Carrie chose to sit directly behind him and was now floating over his shoulder like a haunting spirit. And most of all, three: the sheer, unfortunate truth that, over the years and these last three repeats, Gumball's luck had proven to be as reliable as a broken crutch.

Before he could fret any further, however, a very loud, guttural yell of pride erupted from the right most part of the gym and everyone shot their startled attention towards it.

The Pep Fest was beginning.

* * *

><p><strong>That's all for now everyone. Sorry again for that wait.<strong>

**Your comments mean very much to me and really encourage me to continue writing.**


	8. The Evening Hours

**Hello again, everyone. I apologize for the severely long wait; school has been intense with so much reading and writing. Please remember, I know it may take long to update but I have every intension of finishing this story.**

**DISCLAIMER: ****I OWN NOTHING**** from **_**The Amazing World of Gumball**_**, including characters, places, or any other references that may appear in this story, not a thing.**

**Please Note: Because this story was started before the second season of the show began, the text will pertain to most if not all events prior to the beginning of the second season.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

_The Evening Hours_

Through both ends of the gym, the football players stampeded in. Their feet pounded the floor as thumping rock music blasted through Juke standing at the first row of bleachers.

The bulky players started things off with a demonstration of their training by readying themselves and then ramming into each other, gaining applause all around. The cheering grew as the team showed off their strategic plays, like tossing a football around and quickly reacting, running, and dodging to one end of the gym. The jocks yelled wildly with pride while the students surrounding them madly stomped the bleachers, yelling so loud they actually overpowered the blaring rock music.

Gumball remained seated, his hands squashing his ears trying to dull out the beating racket.

_ Good grief, what's taking these meatheads so long to finish?_ he thought with annoyance._ Who cares about some sweaty older kids ramming their heads into the wall? Get on with Penny!_

The players continued throwing and catching and slamming, and a few even jumped into the bleachers, squashing a few excited students before finally cooling down and moving off to the side. When they did, Juke switched over from the rock music to a beat more funky.

Next came Rocky. The popular fuzzy, orange school worker ran down the front of the bleachers carrying a bulky garbage bag, happily throwing its contents to the excited students: candy, glow sticks, party poppers, and even a few Frisbees and plastic sports bottles.

Gumball reached up and tried to grab a Frisbee, but missed as it curved around and was caught by Clayton, the red clay kid nobody ever seems to notice. Darwin caught some candy and gave it to Rachel, who then placed a quick kiss on his orange cheek. Anais sported a blue glow stick, glowing brightly despite the gym being so well lit.

After Rocky finished two full laps around the gym, tossing until the bag was empty, he walked off to the side, yelling, "Go Mustangs!"

Then, the fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling dimmed and Juke turned off his music. Four girls walked to the middle of the gym, two each facing each side.

Gumball readied himself. His fists clenched and his blood stirred.

The moment was finally here.

The four cheerleaders raised their white pom-poms. The whole gym fell quiet. Then, the school band at the left-most part of the bleachers began to play.

Along with all the other students, Gumball stood as the school's song played through brilliant trumpets, low trombones, fluent woodwinds, and solid brisk drums.

The cheerleaders swung their arms, kicked and flipped through the air, flowing together in teamwork to perform a graceful dance. The student body clapped in rhythm to the band's beat and the cheerleaders never fell out of step.

Gumball's breath was taken by Penny's beautiful routine. In his mind, she was a bright ray of sunlight, flying and swerving across the sky with peaceful elegance and radiant glamour.

When the song neared its conclusion, the cheerleaders grouped together and were flung up into the air by Molly. Penny, Carmen, and Teri performed a few flips in midair, and then, after reaching their full elevation, gravity took hold and Molly was prepared. First came Carmen onto Molly's right arm. Next, Teri floated onto her left. Finally, Penny landed gently onto Molly's back. In perfect balance, the four girls held out their pom-poms as the school song concluded on its last note.

The whole gymnasium erupted into applause.

Gumball hooted and hollered, fiercely clapping his hands at the amazement he just witnessed. Penny stood beautifully on top; she earned every right to be at the peak. And, Gumball had to admit, Molly, Carmen, and Teri (who looked to be doing all right) did a good job as well. All around, the four of them did spectacular.

For a moment, Gumball saw Penny make eye contact with him. His heart warmed at how soft she smiled and thought he might melt where he stood.

After the cheerleaders returned to their seats, Principal Brown walked to the middle of the gym with a microphone in his furry hand. He raised his other for silence, and the crowd obeyed.

"Good afternoon, everybody," said Brown, his voice emitting through all the gym's speakers. "Firstly, thank you, our strong Mustangs," he motioned to the football players and the school cheered in reply. "And thank you, our spirited cheerleaders," he smiled towards the four girls who received even greater applause.

"We've been ahead in the last few games," Brown continued, "and our team has been hard at work to make sure we keep that place. I, for one, am eager to see our Mustangs win tonight's game and progress into the quarterfinals. How about you all?"

The students gave a modest cheer.

From behind Principal Brown, a crazed-looking football player ran up and grabbed the microphone right out of his hands. "Come on, Elmore!" the brawny player yelled in a gruff, assertive voice. "Do you want us to win?"

This time the crowd cheered louder. "YES!"

"Do you want us to play hard?"

"YES!"

"Do you want us to show those losers what Elmore is made of?"

"YES!"

"And when is that going to happen?"

"TONIGHT!"

"RIGHT ON! SEE YOU ALL THERE!"

And then, as though the player had developed a serious tantrum, he slammed the microphone onto the gym floor and smashed it repeatedly with his foot, spazzing out like he had far more energy than he could physically hold. The crowd exhibited this same behavior and Gumball felt as though bombs were going off inside everyone, which proved both exciting and freaky.

Principal Brown watched in annoyance as the football player marched back to the team. Out of the corner, Miss Simian happily ran up to Brown, gave him another microphone, and ran back to her seat.

"Yes . . . ." Brown drawled, adjusting his glasses. "Now that our team has stated their . . . spirit, it's time to see a little spirit from our school. Miss Simian, bring out the rope, please."

The assembly watched Miss Simian tow a long, thick, faded rope with a large knot tied on both ends. She dropped it in the middle of the gym.

"Time," said Principal Brown, "for a good old game of Tug-of-War. Will the contenders from the grades please rise and gather down in the center."

Gumball heard the bleachers screech from underneath and felt them rise and fall slightly as Tina and Hector each took one step to get to the gym floor. No one else from Gumball's grade got up to join them.

With the other kids from the higher grades lining up on one side, Tina and Hector were the sole opponents on the rope's other end.

The results were exactly as everyone expected. Tina yanked so hard that the higher grades were sent flying to the other side of the gym. Hector, being a gentle giant, caught all of them before they smacked into the wall.

Everyone clapped, more out of fear than respect. It was no secret to anyone who the strongest kids in school were; Tina and Hector earned that the moment they walked in through the front doors on day one. And to think they were both in the youngest grade!

"Well . . ." said Principal Brown, watching the contenders move back to their seats, "that finished much quicker than I expected." Clearing his throat, he raised his arm to his left, "And now, students, it's time to hand out a few prizes. Please welcome our guidance counselor, Mr. Small."

The fluffy white eccentric walked up with gentle applause.

"Hey, kids," he said into the microphone. His voice had that laidback kind of feel that made you wonder if he really had any spirit at all. "Ha, look at all of you, cheering on for some tough game. Kind of violent, yet I admire your spirits. So supportive and assembled, all grouped together to shout your hearts out as our school goes to such distance and hardships for a giant piece of metal."

Gumball had to keep himself from groaning. _ For crying out loud, get on with it! I don't need the Loop getting any longer!_

"In honor of your strange but wonderful spirit, Elmore Junior High has put together three prizes for three lucky winners."

Reaching into his pants pocket, Mr. Small pulled out a small piece of paper.

"From the coffee beans challenge earlier today, the following prizes will be rewarded to the three students who guessed closest to the actual amount of beans without exceeding it. The winners can pick up their prizes after the Pep Fest concludes."

The entire gymnasium went quiet. The counselor cleared his voice.

"The bottle I had at lunchtime held exactly . . .," he glanced at the card, "52,691 coffee beans."

A mass of bewildered gasps flowed through the gym. Gumball himself found it hard to believe that one 10 gallon bottle could hold that many of one thing, let alone something small like coffee beans.

"Well, so much for my guess," Darwin shrugged, though still smiling.

"Same here," said Gumball. Heck, his guess was weak. Darwin came closer, and he merely guessed off the top of his head!

"Did you try, Rachel?" asked Darwin.

"Nah. I'm usually bad when it comes to things like that. Besides, the prizes are probably just gift certificates or something inexpensive."

Darwin leaned in towards his sister. "Anais, do you know how Mr. Small could've gotten that many beans in there?"

"I'm not really sure," she said. "It's possible the beans we see on the outside are larger than the ones buried deeper, but unless I see for myself, I don't know how else —"

"Surprising, I know," Mr. Small was grinning, having allowed the stunned silence to accumulate. "Yep, I sure do drink a lot of coffee," he chuckled lightly. "Yes . . . . Anyway, now for the prizes."

The gym grew quiet again.

"Third place goes to Bobert from Miss Simian's class."

A few steps beneath him, Gumball heard a computerized and monotone "YAH!" that could only belong to Bobert. The robot walked down through the crowded rows and onto the gym floor, his one digital black eye looking quite eager as he approached Mr. Small.

"What did I win?" he asked excitedly.

Grinning, the counselor answered, "You win a freshly bought Dutch apple pie from the local bakery."

Gumball thought he saw some of the excitement from Bobert's eye flicker out, but still, his robotic friend looked content — probably because he was currently the center of so much attention.

Clearing his throat, Mr. Small went on. "Second place goes to Ocho, also from Miss Simian's class!"

The eight-bit black spider scurried from where Bobert had just left and joined him next to Mr. Small, whose smile remained rigid.

"You, my strange, old-fashioned friend, win three 8 gigabyte jump drives, for storing your homework, photos, music, and any other terrible thing you kids like."

Ocho appeared confused with the prize, and Bobert looked even more annoyed than earlier.

"Well, that's an ironic prize for Ocho," said Anais, her eyebrow lifted. "Three 8 gigabyte jump drives. That's enough to fit 25 billion Ochos."

Darwin and Rachel giggled at this comment. Gumball, too, produced a light smirk, but he then remembered Anais had potentially messed up his chances for escaping the Loop, thus reigniting his irritation.

"And, finally," Mr. Small said into the microphone, "our first place prize goes to . . . ."

The gym could not have gone any quieter. Even the bleachers were struck quiet and the fluorescent lights from above could be heard whirring.

Mr. Small looked to the right, then to the left, and finally, he spoke. "The Eggheads! Who, if anyone can believe, are also from Miss Simian's class!"

The whole gym remained still for a few seconds before building into a mild applause — VERY mild. The Eggheads smirked as they walked up to Mr. Small.

"The two of you win a brand new MP3 player, capable of holding 10,000 songs!"

Gumball and three-quarters of the gym looked dumbfounded. Out of the corner of his blue ears, he swore he heard something along the lines of,

"Just had to be the nerds!"

"Big deal, mine holds 300 million!"

"Must've cheated somehow!"

To his left, Gumball noticed Rachel looking very peeved as she stared spitefully at the Eggheads.

Gumball himself found it odd how four of the biggest nerds in his class could've ALL won the prizes, but decided his suspicions were not worthwhile. After all, the four were well known to be brilliant when it came to math, so it's very likely the coffee bean challenge was simply a matter of algorithms and geometry and all other mathematical hooey.

The Eggheads were simply thrilled at their victory, the smirks never leaving their faces. Bobert seemed aggravated in the way his eye turned light red, his claw-like hands clenching forcefully together. And Ocho still appeared confused, scratching his head with one of his eight bit legs.

"Well," Mr. Small said, his smile now looking somewhat strained. "That's all the prizes, but we mustn't forget that, whether we win or lose, we're all winners in our own way." And with that, he handed Principal Brown the microphone, and walked away. As soon as his face was out of sight to the crowd, his hands shot for his cheeks and started massaging them.

"Bobert certainly doesn't look like a winner," Gumball whispered to Darwin. The two shared a stifled laugh, before Darwin added, "Inspiring words, though."

"Thank you, Mr. Small," Principal Brown's voice sounded over the speakers. "Let's all hear one last round of applause for the winners."

Gumball, Darwin, Rachel, and Anais joined the gym in clapping, but kept to the volume of those around them. It was quite clear there were more than a few annoyed students who wished _their_ guesses were given a better chance, and the four of them didn't want any rough glances.

"Now, as our Pep Fest is on its last few minutes, I have a request from our Mustangs to state."

The entire football team walked forward and grouped together behind the furry principal, making him seem quite miniscule amongst the beefy, stone-faced players.

"Our team hopes to see many of you and your families at tonight's game. Join our cheerleaders and offer your spirits and voices so that we'll play fiercely to the last minute.

"Whatever you decide, whether to come or watch the game at home, give a loud cheer for your team and help drive these horses forward!"

Then, with his fist tight, he punched the air. "GO MUSTANGS!"

All the students in the gym shouted along. "GO MUSTANGS!"

Gumball went along with his brother, sister, and Rachel in the excitement, although the game was the furthest thing from his train of thought. He was thinking only of the Loop and whether or not showing any spirit over the last few days was a reason for his entrapment.

After one final cheer, the bell rang and everyone rushed to the doors in a spirited frenzy. Gumball stayed behind with Darwin and Anais until things were less hectic and the doorways less clogged.

"Well, we better head out if we want to catch the bus," said Darwin.

"Hope you guys don't mind," said Carrie in a careless voice, "but I'm just going to follow you all out."

"Sure. That's no problem, Carrie."

"You guys go on," Gumball replied, moving in the opposite direction, "I just want to say a quick word to Penny."

Back towards the bleachers, Carmen and Molly were talking to Teri. Penny stood off to the side, stretching her arms, her pom-poms still in each hand.

"You were wonderful, Penny," said Gumball, love in every word.

Penny blushed and smiled. "Thanks, Gumball. I saw you as you cheered."

Before the two had the chance to share a moment of awkward, romantic silence in which the whole world faded away, somebody spoke. "Hey, Gumball?"

It was Molly.

"Teri was in the nurse's office like you said."

Gumball didn't know what to say. "Oh. Well, I'm glad you all found her in time. Is she all right?"

"Yeah, just a little crinkle in her leg. Hopefully it won't be too big a problem. But, if you don't mind me asking," Molly's voice then became a little more serious, "how exactly did you know Teri wasin the nurse's office?"

"I didn't," Gumball lied quickly. "I told you, it was just a guess."

"Okay . . ." said Molly, not sounding too sure of that answer. "But how did you also know Rachel was in the girl's bathroom when I went there this morning?"

Gumball felt his throat twitch a little, but kept his face calm. Molly stared at him suspiciously and Penny looked genuinely confused. Luckily, Gumball already knew what to say.

"I saw her pass by in the hall this morning when me and Miss Simian entered the classroom. I didn't really know whether or not she used the bathroom, but I guessed it would be likely since she was walking towards it. I just said that 'say hi' part because I was in a good mood."

While not exactly the truth, Gumball didn't see the harm in adding a few extra details. Besides, if he told the _real_ reason he knew where Rachel was, Molly and Penny would look at him with _more_ than just suspicion.

Molly, however, looked reasonably convinced. "Oh. Okay. Sorry for sounding suspicious. It was just a little weird seeing her there after you said it."

"It's okay," said Gumball, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm actually a little surprised I was right. It doesn't happen very often."

Man, wasn't that the truth . . . .

Remembering he had to catch the bus, Gumball looked up to one of the gym's clocks. He only had a minute or two left.

"I gotta go now, Penny," and Gumball started toward the door, "I hope all goes great at the game tonight!"

"Okay, thanks!" said Penny, waving her pom-pom. "Are you coming tonight?"

"I don't know, I'll have to see!"

"Okay. It'll be great if I can see you again!"

"Maybe! Bye, Penny! I love —"

Gumball bit down on his tongue before the word 'you' could escape. No way was he going to mess things up, not after things had gone so well. It would be silly to have to repeat the whole day again just because of embarrassment. Although, after reaching the door, he saw Penny blushing and smiling. Never had Gumball seen anything more wonderful or felt so moved.

* * *

><p>Gumball made it onto the bus just as Rocky closed the doors. He joined Darwin in the back while being sure to keep Anais and her good-for-nothing attitude as far away as possible.<p>

"How did things go with Penny?"

Gumball had expected this question from Darwin, but for some reason it was Carrie who asked, sitting just one seat in front of him.

"Oh . . . uh," Gumball stuttered, feeling awkward for who-knows-why. "Great. She performed excellently and I made sure she knew it."

"That's good," and Carrie faced forward again, saying nothing else.

Gumball thought it weird of Carrie to wonder about something like that. Although he considered her a friend, he and Carrie never really shared a serious discussion beyond her eating experience. But before his mind went deeper into contemplating this irregularity, Gumball shook his head and decided to focus, instead, on what was more important: escaping the Loop.

So far, everything had gone great. He made it through breakfast without a shout or sob, the morning classes went fine, he made it through lunch without getting possessed, and best of all, he finally made it to the Pep Fest and got to see Penny smile. All that was left was the evening, and how difficult could that be?

"Did you kiss her?" asked Darwin.

Gumball fell off balance in his seat, but caught himself before sinking too far. "What?" he asked incredulously.

"Penny," his brother answered. "Did you and her finally kiss?"

Gumball cheeks tinted pink, feeling embarrassed as well as amused. "No. It would've felt weird doing it in front of three other girls. Besides, I didn't have much time other than to say good job and good luck."

"You really 'ought to kiss her sooner or later," said Rachel teasingly. "I suggest 'sooner'."

Gumball lifted an eyebrow. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"Just that you 'ought to let her know how you really feel if you want to keep your relationship with her, before someone else thinks ahead and asks Penny out before you do. A kiss is just the thing to seal the deal."

"Have _you_ and Darwin kissed by any chance?" he stressed.

Rachel and Darwin both blushed.

"Well . . . not yet. Not on the lips, anyway. We're just not ready yet."

"Then shouldn't _you_ be worried about losing Darwin to someone else?"

Rachel looked surprised. "Who else do you know has a crush on Darwin besides me?"

"Well," said Gumball, "there was this one time with Masami when she and —"

"THAT NEVER HAPPENED, SO SHUT UP BACK THERE!"

Masami had shouted from the middle of the bus. Her entire cloud body went dark and the thunder from within swelled threateningly.

"Quiet back there, Masami," Rocky said over the bus speakers, and the cloud girl returned to her regular shade of white, though still looking quite annoyed.

Gumball continued, "To answer your question, Rachel, nobody. As for me and Penny, I'm not worried. The two of us are doing fine, and when the time is right for things to improve, great. Right now I have other things on my mind."

Anais left out a scoff. "Wow, _that's_ never happened before."

Gumball scowled and was about to shout, but then an orange fin covered his lips.

"Please, don't!" Darwin pleaded between them. "Will you two please stop! You've both been at this since morning! Just let that mess about the plate go. It's not worth hating each other."

"Plate?" asked Rachel.

"Gumball accidentally wrecked one of Mom's good china plates."

Rachel's expression widened with interest. "Wow, she must've been steamed."

"From how it sounded, she would've been."

Darwin and Rachel then went on for the remainder of the bus ride discussing the plate situation before going on to how touchy parents are about everything their kids do. Some of the comments proved quite funny, but Gumball, like his sister, didn't laugh or say anything out of momentary resentment.

* * *

><p>Darwin waved goodbye to Rachel when the bus stopped in front of his house. Walking off onto the sidewalk, the three siblings paused for a moment to take in the weather. The clouds were feathery and the sky was a perfect cyan with that big old smiley sun stuck high up, shining brightly.<p>

"Nice day," Darwin said between his siblings.

Gumball and Anais mumbled, "Yeah."

"Hey!" Darwin's face brightened. "Let's ask Mom if we can go down to the game tonight after dinner! We don't have any homework so I think we can! Come on!"

Darwin eagerly rushed into the house. Anais pressed forward without looking back at her brother. Gumball walked slowly, wondering how he should spend the rest of the evening. Just as he made it halfway to the front door, a voice called from beyond the fence.

"Hey, kid!"

Gumball turned. Mr. Robinson was hanging from the fence posts. Wasting no time, Gumball rushed over to his old neighbor.

"How'd it go today, kid?" asked Mr. Robinson, whose stare fell somewhere between curious and tired.

"It's gone great!" Gumball said brightly. "I've been avoiding and fixing all my mistakes! And I've _finally_ made it to the Pep Fest! Penny was so happy!"

"That's great," the old puppet said quickly. "Anything go wrong?"

Gumball's frown returned. "Just that my stupid sister's been complaining all day about this stupid plate I broke, saying how it was her idea for me to say sorry and that I lied about choosing to come down and apologize to Mom. Honestly! What a stupid thing to argue about!"

"_Did_ she tell you to go down and apologize?"

"Well . . . yeah, but she told me to do it last night…er, I mean, the night before the Loop began."

"_Did_ you lie?"

Gumball let off a frustrated groan. "NO! I just went to apologize on my own before Anais had a chance to remind me! Sure, Mom asked me if _I_ chose to come and apologize on my own, but technically I already knew I would have to apologize because of my other days in the Loop! That counts as honest, doesn't it?"

Mr. Robison said nothing and adjusted his glasses. "Well . . . happy to hear things are going smoothly so far, but don't forget, kid, the day's not over yet. Sometimes how we end the day is just as important as what went on in the middle and beginning."

"Well, how hard can that be?" Gumball smiled. "I just have to stay out of trouble until bed time."

"Just keep on your toes and your mind focused, as hard as that will probably be for you," grumbled Mr. Robinson. "The longer you stay in this Loop, the longer _I_ have to be in it, too. Now if you excuse me, I have to go get ready to eat chicken alfredo, again!"

And with that, Mr. Robinson dropped down from the fence, leaving Gumball on the other side to hear his grumpy neighbor walk back to his house and slam the front door.

* * *

><p>When Gumball walked into his house, the first thing he heard was his name.<p>

"Hello, Gumball."

The way it was said made his throat go dry at once. Slowly, he turned his sight towards the source and found his mother sitting on the couch, looking like she had swallowed something very bitter.

"Hi . . . ?" Gumball said cautiously.

"Have a nice day?" She spoke as though it were an accusation. "Everything go well in class?"

Gumball felt the inside of his throat twinge uncomfortably. "Yeah . . . everything went fine."

Nicole glared even harder. "Fine?" Standing up from the couch, she towered over her son like an immense pillar close to tipping over. "You call getting an F _fine_?" Her voice burned with anger on the last word.

Gumball stood bewildered. For a moment, he thought Anais told their mom that he lied about the plate and was going to be punished for it. But then, remembering back to this morning, Gumball's eyes widened with shock. He completely forgot about the F he asked Miss Simian to trade over from Darwin's.

"Gumball, why did Miss Simian call and say you received an F on your science report?" she asked heatedly. "You told me that you and Darwin finished that project!"

"We did!" Gumball held up his hands. "It's just . . . " and then he blushed, realizing why Darwin received an F in the first place. "I . . . I forgot —"

"Your name?" Nicole's voice rose.

Fighting embarrassment of all things, Gumball nodded.

His mother erupted. "_How_ could you forget to put your own name on a project after _weeks_ of working on it!"

Gumball remained miserably quiet, knowing full well there was no way to explain himself.

"Is your attention _really_ so terrible that you can't even double check to make sure everything is where it's suppose to be!" his mother snapped. Then, her voice turned a little calmer, almost sad. "Don't you _care_ about passing? Or your little brother's? What if you also forgot to include Darwin's name? How would you feel then?"

Nicole looked intently at her son, whose face suddenly lost half its blue color. If Gumball's mouth was dry before, it now proved very difficult to breathe.

His eyes searched the floor. What in the name of Honesty could he say next?

"You . . . you didn't," Nicole said quietly, her voice very still.

Looking up, Gumball was startled to see his mother's new expression. It held every sense of someone who knew the answer but couldn't understand how it could be true.

"But . . . but Darwin said . . . he said he got —"

"OH, ALL RIGHT!" Gumball snapped. "I asked for the F!"

Nicole frowned with confusion. "What?"

"I forgot to put Darwin's name on the project! But I caught Miss Simian before class and convinced her to give my grade to Darwin instead!"

Nicole stared at him, wide eyed and motionless.

Interestingly, Gumball felt rather good about letting this truth be known. In the very least, his anxiety certainly diminished compared to how it was seconds ago. And who knows, maybe his mother will be proud of him for making such a sacrifice for his brother.

Nicole, however, looked stunned, and her voice was little more than a whisper. "You . . . forgot your own brother . . . ."

Gumball didn't hear her clearly, or at least hoped he didn't. "What?"

This time, Nicole's voice came in clear, as did her anger. "How could you forget Darwin? After all the time you spent working!"

Gumball mouth fell open. "Mom, didn't you —"

"I heard you! And I can hardly believe you could be so neglectful to your own brother!"

Baffled, all Gumball felt then was irritation. Complete, utter irritation. "Hey! I told you that I took Darwin's F! He got my A! One of us passed! Isn't that good enough for you?"

"This isn't about your grade, Gumball! It's your carelessness I'm disgusted with!"

"_What_?" his voice nearly broke.

"Think for once!" Nicole snapped. "How do you think something like this would go down if you and Darwin were adults? It's like mailing a bill that's only half completed, and the part that isn't affects everyone associated with it!"

"Mom, it's only a science report! There'll be plenty of other more important papers. I'm the one who got the bad grade, I'll live with it! It's no big deal!"

"Yes, it is! Whenever it involves education, it's a _very_ big deal!"

Before Gumball could retort, Nicole raised her finger, "Not another word! You're grounded for the rest of the day. Go to your room and stay there until dinner."

Every trace of sensation in Gumball's body disintegrated. With his hands held out in front, shaking, all that could escape his lungs were strangled breaths.

"I said go, Gumball," Nicole pointed to the second floor.

Without being totally aware of it, Gumball's legs were moving him up the stairs and into his bedroom. Crashing onto the bottom bunk, his face remained fixed in a state of confusion, shock, and numbness.

"Gumball?" asked Darwin. Worried, he tapped his brother's shoulder. "Are you okay? What did Mom want to talk to you about?"

Darwin tapped again, but Gumball didn't answer; his mind was anywhere but in the present moment.

* * *

><p>For two hours Gumball remained where he was, staring lifelessly at the upper bunk's bottom wood frame. He hadn't spoke a single word since lying down and was barely breathing. He was so still that Darwin checked his brother's pulse regularly just to make sure he wasn't dead.<p>

"Boys, time for dinner!" called Nicole.

Awkwardly, Darwin said, "Uh, Gumball? Dinner."

Gumball blinked. He stood and walked out of the bedroom, but in a way that showed no interest in anything around him — barely an improvement.

Gumball's half-dead behavior continued in the dinning room. The baked macaroni and cheese his mother cooked kept slipping off his fork, which he brought up so slowly that, when it finally reached his mouth, all he tasted was melted cheese and a few baked crumbs.

Both Darwin and Anais looked very worried, having barely touched any of their own food.

"Kids, eat up," Nicole said. "Your food's going to chill."

Only Darwin and Anais complied. They chewed slowly, trying hard not to look at their big brother's dismal endeavor.

Nicole, on the other hand, wouldn't allow herself to turn from her son. Frowning sadly, she pondered all the other ways she could've told Gumball about the call she received, because the way it was turning out diminished more than just her appetite.

Richard was the only one eating his large helping heartily, yet even he was weirded out by Gumball.

"Uh, son," he said, "maybe you should try spearing the macaroni instead of trying to scoop it."

Gumball didn't seem to hear him, or he did but didn't respond.

Anais swallowed a mouthful and cleared her throat. "Hey, Darwin? You said something about going to the game tonight?"

She knew it was awkward to ask, but for everyone's sake she had to try something to change the attitude at the table.

Darwin responded. "Well . . . yeah, but," looking over at his brother, "I kinda don't feel like it anymore."

Nicole looked from Darwin to Gumball, who still wasn't halfway through his food. She calmly said, "I agree. I think it will be best if we all just stay home for the night. We can watch the game on TV, though."

"Okay," Darwin said. "That sounds like fun."

"Yeah," nodded Richard. "How about that, Gumball? That sound good to you?"

"Gumball, unfortunately, won't be joining us, Richard," said Nicole, whose voice was soft but still direct. "He is grounded and needs to think about something that happened today."

"What?" Darwin asked, sounding a little impatient. "What happened?"

"Nothing, Darwin. Nothing you have to worry about."

Nicole decided it was best to spare Darwin the truth about his grade, both for the sake of him feeling bad for Gumball and the risk that he might get mad at him.

Turning her steady gaze towards Gumball, Nicole couldn't help but hate herself a little. But as his mother, she knew he needed this time alone.

After all the years she had under her belt, Nicole knew that being a parent came with knowing when her children needed time to themselves. And for Gumball, it couldn't be plainer that he needed that time badly.

* * *

><p>After the dishes were washed and the leftover dinner stored in the fridge, Nicole and her family sat down on the couch. The TV flashed into life, revealing crowds of people gathering into the stands around the school's football field. The green 100 yard field was brightly lit, showing eager and frenzied faces on both teams. The Elmore Mustangs and the Seymore Grizzlies were ready — ready to gallop, brawl, and charge head-on for the chance of being in the quarterfinals.<p>

Meanwhile, Gumball was upstairs sitting on the bunk in his bedroom. His eyes were set soundly on the alarm clock, watching each minute tick by as his brain kept reminding him of everything that happened today.

It was all ruined. Five measly minutes were all it took for his entire day and all his accomplishments to crumple and burn up into nothing. The mark on his shoulder felt heavier, its weight falling into both closed fists. Gumball hardly ever felt so angry, and it made matters worse not knowing who to most angry with.

Everyone and their problems . . . . But who, out of them all, was most to blame?

The football game was now in halftime with both teams neck-in-neck, and Nicole couldn't have cared less who won or lost. From the moment she sat down, she thought only of the one person who was missing. Looking up from the TV to the stairs leading to the second floor, she wanted to go up and tell her son to come down, but the little authoritive voice in her head reminded her that Gumball needed this time to himself.

Then, she noticed another empty spot on the couch.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted Anais halfway up the stairs.

She and her daughter made eye contact. She knew exactly what her little girl was doing.

Nicole gently nodded. Anais, with a small smile, nodded in return and moved on.

The little pink rabbit gently pushed on her brother's bedroom door. She stepped inside and moved towards the top bunk. Standing at the foot of the ladder, she looked up and gently said, "Gumball?"

There wasn't a trace of resentment in Anais' voice.

No sound came from above. Grabbing the ladder, she climbed up and found her brother lying in a firm position on his bed. His was staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"Gumball?" she said again.

Her big brother didn't respond or even acknowledge her.

Anais' ears drooped.

"Gumball . . . I just wanted to say I'm sorry for how I acted today. I know the plate wasn't a really big deal, and I know it must've been frightening to face Mom about it."

Anais looked down in regret, her little pink hands gripping her brother's blankets. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. I was just afraid Mom would've gotten angrier with you if she thought you were lying. It really doesn't matter who chose to do what or who told who first, I know. I . . . I was just worried, that's all."

Looking back up at her brother, still unmoving, Anais said one final thing.

"I'm really sorry, Gumball."

Anais prayed he would say something, anything to her. But her brother's face remained static and emotionless.

Sighing, Anais climbed back down, returned to the door, and gently closed it. Before reaching the stairs, she wiped away a tear that began to form.

* * *

><p>The game ended just a few minutes before 10:00 and the four Watterson members wasted no time heading upstairs for bed. Once in their pajamas, they lined up outside the bathroom to brush their teeth.<p>

"Not the best game," Richard commented. "The ending, for some reason, was particularly tragic, but oh well. Not the end of the world, right?"

"Yeah," said the other three, not thinking the least bit about the game.

The bathroom door opened and Gumball stepped out.

"Hey . . . son," Richard's voice dropped uneasily at the sight of Gumball's glowering face. Despite being oblivious most of the time, even Richard could tell that something was wrong. "Uh . . . want to hear about this great play the Mustangs did in the first half?"

Gumball started down the hall, ignoring everyone, looking irritated beyond belief.

Nicole's authoritive voice told her to let him go, but the weight weighing down on her chest was too much to ignore. She broke from the line and walked behind her son's fervent march to his room.

"Sweetie?" she asked.

Gumball didn't acknowledge her.

"Honey?"

He didn't stop.

At his bedroom door, Nicole's voice went into a whisper.

"Gummy-Puss?"

Gumball's frown deepened. He stepped into his room and gripped the door.

"I love —"

Before Nicole could finish her sentence, the door slammed.

Gumball threw his sweater and pants to the floor and crawled into the top bunk wearing only his underwear. For several minutes he laid in his bed, stiff like a corpse in a tight casket. When Darwin came in and gently closed the door, Gumball heard him climb up the ladder and stop where Anais had an hour earlier.

"Gumball, what's wrong?" Darwin begged. "We're all worried about you."

Gumball refused to say anything. He kept his sight on the ceiling. The bland, blank ceiling.

"Gumball, please, talk to me. You and I can talk about anything."

Still, Gumball wouldn't have any of it.

Darwin, knowing it was now useless, sighed. He climbed down the ladder and turned off the light.

"I hope you feel better in the morning. We can all forget whatever's bothering us and move on."

Gumball fought the urge to laugh ruthlessly by biting his bottom lip.

"Also, Gumball," Darwin said, his voice now calm and without doubt. "Just so you know . . . Mom, Dad, and Anais all said goodnight, and that they love you."

Gumball's frown receded, but didn't fully disappear.

"And so do I," were Darwin's final words before the sound came of him dropping into his fishbowl.

As much as Gumball wanted to think about everything Darwin had just told him, he couldn't. Lying beneath his bed sheets, Gumball felt all of today's events run though his mind like a painful dirge.

How close did he come to seeing tomorrow? Was there anything he missed? Or was everything perfect until these new problems arose?

Not one answer floated into existence, and right now, Gumball really didn't care. Closing his eyes in the dark, his mind fueled itself with disappointment and ignored every good thing that happened today; it was all just too painful to think about.

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you all enjoyed this reading. I will be hard at work thinking of what will come next. Please, remember, it may take time but I intend to continue with this story.<strong>

**As always, your comments, whatever they may be, are always welcome.**


	9. Revenge and Regret

**Sorry again for the long wait. These last two months of school were busy. I would like to thank everyone for reading and reviewing my story so far. I'm thankful and happy to see people are taking a liking to it, and I hope that it continues to delight the imagination.**

**DISCLAIMER: ****I OWN NOTHING**** from **_**The Amazing World of Gumball**_**, including characters, places, or any other references that may appear in this story, not a thing.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

_Revenge and Regret_

Once again, the alarm clock in Gumball and Darwin's room went off at 6:20, and again, Gumball woke from the top bunk, dressed in the nightshirt he hadn't been wearing the night before. Glaring, not only from the sunlight showering through the window, he kicked away his blankets, jumped down to the carpet, stomped to the alarm clock, and slammed his hand down on the button, killing the buzz.

Gumball tugged on his nightshirt's collar and, to no surprise, saw the Loop mark, still on his left shoulder, black as ever. Memories of yesterday rushed through his head, reminding him of how close he came to freedom, only to have his family ruin everything.

These thoughts caused his lips to tighten furiously as he stood in front of his alarm, his back turned to the bedroom door when it opened.

Sleepily, Anais walked in, rubbing her eyes. "Morning, Gumball."

Gumball's teeth bore onto each other. Turning around, he headed towards the door.

"Did you have a nice — "

He pushed past Anais before she could finish, leaving her confused, questioning her big brother's glowering frown.

Downstairs, Gumball opened the front door and waited. As expected, Larry came around the corner of the Robinson's fence, riding his bike.

Spotting Gumball at the door, Larry happily waved. "Oh, good morning, Gum —"

CRASH!

Larry's bike wheel struck a raised part in the sidewalk, causing him to jut forward from his bike and thump onto the ground, smacking his rock-like head on the concrete.

Larry struggled to get up, moaning and rubbing his head, his legs slowly regaining their strength from the shock. Meanwhile, Gumball closed the door, not bothering to go and help.

"Gumball!" Nicole angrily yelled out.

His face still scrunched in bitter contempt, Gumball strut to the kitchen and stopped in front of his mother.

"How DARE you break one of MY good china plates for a COOKIE!"

Gumball didn't flinch away from his sour face as his mother held the broken plate in front of him, nor did his attitude change as she went on about how the china was passed down to her.

Nicole glared at her son. "Don't you give me that look, little man! What do you have to say for yourself?"

She stood waiting for an answer, looking angrier due to Gumball's livid expression. When no answer came after ten whole seconds, she raised her voice and bared her teeth, "WELL?"

This time, Gumball reacted. He walked right out of the kitchen, across the living room, and started up the stairs. His mother threw angry commands, ordering him to come back and face responsibility. Just as loudly, Gumball slammed his bedroom door, never minding the confusion on his brother, sister, and father, all standing in the hallway.

* * *

><p>"You're grounded, Gumball," were the first words Nicole said when he came back downstairs, dressed in his pants and sweater and by no means improved in attitude. "No TV, no dessert, and no videogames for a week!"<p>

Nicole scrapped the butter so hard onto her piece of toast that there was more crust than bread left when she took a bite. She secretly hoped her son would be intimidated by her action, as he and the others usually were when she let her anger off its chain. Gumball, however, sat down and ate his cereal calmly as though this were just another morning. Irritation grew in Nicole like a boiling thermometer and she bent the butter knife in her bare hand, grinding it into metallic powder.

Darwin glanced uneasily back and forth between his mother and brother, not having the faintest idea what was going on. Anais took another bite of her cereal, swallowed, and climbed down from her highchair saying she had to go get another napkin. As she passed Gumball, she whispered, "I told you this would happen."

Anais went on into the kitchen and didn't see the shaking, sneering, steaming red face Gumball formed in two seconds flat.

_Okay . . . _Darwin thought, sinking in his seat. _This is starting to get uncomfortable_. Such a furious face is scary enough on his mother, but for Gumball it seemed so uncharacteristic. _And to think he was so happy this weekend…._

Anais returned and climbed back in her highchair just as Richard came into the dining room.

Gumball's face cooled, but his craving to smack his sister's pink bunny face remained firm.

_Just look at her_, Gumball thought menacingly. _Eating her cereal, acting like she did nothing wrong, wreaking my day so early in the morning. Well, keep eating Anais, because I'm not letting your actions from yesterday go without —_.

His vow of vengeance was interrupted by a loud, "Gumball!"

Snapping back to the present, he turned to his father. "Wha? What?"

"I asked you, do you like my new tie?"

"Tie? Oh, yeah, sure, it's fine," and he went back to eating his cereal, not giving Richard any further remark.

* * *

><p>The Watterson family went their separate ways after breakfast. Nicole left for work in a huff, fuming over Gumball's stiff, indifferent reaction to her plate. Richard removed his new tie after Gumball's compliment, feeling it didn't attract the positive feedback he had hoped for. Darwin and Anais waited on the sidewalk for the school bus and were joined shortly by Gumball who exited the house after brushing his teeth for a measly five seconds, having not bothered to rinse out the bathroom sink or to recap the toothpaste.<p>

As Gumball marched down the walkway, Mr. Robinson's head poked up over the other side of the fence. He waved for Gumball's attention. "Hey, kid! What happened last night?"

Gumball ignored him, a very grouchy frown plastered on his face.

"Whoa," Mr. Robinson said to himself, "and I thought Margaret looked crabby in the mornings."

Crabby, however, wasn't a good enough term. Gumball was seething with anger and could barely keep his fists from shaking, more or less keep his face impassive. Both Darwin and Anais noticed this, especially due to Gumball being a measly three feet apart from them.

Darwin whispered to Anais, "Gumball seems really off today."

"I know," she replied quietly. "He's acting even more strange than he did on the weekend, but at least then he was smiling."

"I know," said Darwin, a tad annoyed. "Too smiley, if you ask me. Seriously, he . . ."

As Darwin and Anais continued talking quietly amongst themselves, Gumball's mind was elsewhere, deaf to every sound except those in his head.

His thoughts trembled like an ocean in a stormy gust. Fire was burning on the wind and thunder crackled so loud it made the surrounding islands rattle and crumble. And at the center of this storm was the little pink bunny who, as far as Gumball considered, was the cause of all the pain.

The more he thought about it, the more Gumball realized Anais' role in preventing his escape from the Loop. It was, after all, Anais who first hinted disaster on the morning of the very first day. And, on the Sunday night before the Loop began, she bugged him to go and tell his parents about the plate, or in the very least to write a note of apology for their mother to find when she woke up. Amongst other things, from her voice being the first one he heard in the morning to her bothersome complaining on the bus, Gumball had the utter confidence that Anais was to blame.

"Gumball, are you coming?" Darwin shouted.

_And why couldn't she be responsible?_ Gumball thought indignantly. _She's only four years old and is already in junior high and studying things like physics! She probably got angry with me for not taking her seriously and performed some sick physics experiment to trap me here, just so she could laugh in my face as I suffer the onslaught!_

"Gumball! Let's go!" Darwin shouted with annoyance.

_That little brat_, Gumball's thoughts growled. _Well, not today, Anais. If you think it's fun keeping me here, then I'll make sure your day is as _peachy_ as mine_.

"WATTERSON!"

Gumball nearly fell off balance, shocked that Darwin's voice suddenly went ragged and somewhat screechy. In all his years, he never heard his brother address him by his last name. But when his focus returned, Gumball saw that it wasn't Darwin who shouted, nor was he standing any longer on the sidewalk.

Gumball was seated at his desk in Miss Simian's classroom, with a very peeved Miss Simian frowning at him.

"Stop daydreaming, Gumball! Class started five minutes ago!"

* * *

><p>The morning classes passed by like a slug race. Miss Simian droned on about the same facts, calling on the same people who raised their hands in the same order as on the other repeated days. Gumball, meanwhile, sat in his seat, taking only so much in, never minding that, all the while, Darwin was giving him the cold shoulder.<p>

When the pop quiz came around, a brief but good moment arrived for Gumball when he successfully managed to recite all six Noble Gases, saying them in a smug manner that made Miss Simian grind her teeth.

At lunch, Gumball grabbed only the chocolate mint cake, chewing it slowly as he sat by himself.

Glancing at the cafeteria clock's second hand, Gumball whispered, "Four, three, two, and here's Carrie."

Sure enough, Carrie floated up next to him, holding her piece of cake on a plate. "Hi, Gumball. Are you feeling okay? You seemed kind of off this morning."

Gumball let out a burp. Dropping his fork to his plate, he said, "Nope, I'm fine. Just enjoying a piece of chocolate mint cake."

Carrie's looked at her own slice longingly. "It's really that good?"

"Oh, yes," Gumball bragged. "Soft, rich chocolate with smooth, crisp mint filling, and a dash of mint sprinkles to give each bite a slight crunch as it covers every corner of your tongue."

Gumball smirked as Carrie's mood went from curious to excited. "Will you help me eat it?" she asked eagerly.

Gumball, still smirking, replied bluntly. "No."

He got to his feet and walked away, leaving Carrie floating, taken aback by his remark.

Once in the library, Gumball sat down at one of the many tables, thinking of what he just did.

_Maybe I was bit mean . . . nah_," Gumball shook his head. _It's for the best. Besides, Carrie says she can't feel anything besides pain, so what's the harm? _Regardless, something about the cafeteria gave him an idea, an idea that involved Anais.

Gumball's mind sparked with fire, and a wicked grin formed on his face.

After the bell rang for study hall, Gumball exited the library and made his way back to where he had just been. On the way, Carrie floated by, her head hanging. Gumball ignored her saddened expression and stopped outside the cafeteria door to look in through the window.

_There you are_, Gumball sneered. Anais was standing on her tiptoes, trying to get her tray of food onto a table. Rocky walked by and helped her slide it up. After what looked like a thank you, Anais stacked a few large books onto her seat and climbed up, ready to eat.

Gumball saw his chance. Pushing through the doors, he marched right up to Anais before she could take a bite.

"Gumball?" she said, holding a bowl of pasta. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I thought I'd come to help you eat lunch," he said with a snide voice. And, while pinching Anais' cheek, he said in a babyish tone, "You're still a little baby after all."

Irritated, Anais slapped Gumball's hand away. "I'm old enough to feed myself!"

"Not with that highchair at home, you're not."

"That's just so I can reach the table!"

"Still, I would like to help," he said, though his voice suggested otherwise. "Here, have some pasta," and before Anais could react, Gumball took the bowl from his sister's hand and tipped it forward.

Anais gasped, grabbing the attention of everyone in the cafeteria, most if not all just as shocked. Hot meat sauce and pasta covered her dress, splotching orange spots that stained the yellow fabric.

Gumball's devilish grin grew wider. "Next, some veggies and fruit." He grabbed the carrots and mixed fruit with his bare hands and shoved them onto his sister's cheeks, rubbing the food to mush as she struggled to stop him, her voice muffled through Gumball's scrubbing.

"And lastly," Gumball grinned, picking up the cake, "dessert."

He shoved it straight into Anais' face.

As though the cake had been a brick, Anais stopped struggling, seemingly stunned.

Gumball, however, wasn't finished.

"Does little baby also want some milk?" he said in a voice both babyish and cruel. He then took the milk carton and poured all its liquid onto Anais' head.

Dropping the carton to the floor, the hollow sound filled Gumball's ears and he realized just how quiet everything became. The stunned faces of the students, interrupted from their lunches, gave Gumball no care to notice. It was Anais' he was set dead on.

Her dress spattered with stains from the meat sauce, her cheeks smeared with carrots and bits of fruit, her face completely masked by the dark brown and emerald green cake, and her head soaked by the milk, Anais finally lifted her hand.

Gumball was ready for any punch or cruel thing she had to throw at him. He was without any doubt that his sister would react in such a way.

But Anais did not punch him or even shout. She wiped away the smeared cake, revealing her face: dirty, quiet, and, to Gumball's shock, hurt. Anais gritted her teeth for a moment, but only so, and then did something Gumball hardly ever saw her do.

Anais started to cry. She leapt from her seat, pushed her brother aside, and ran out of the cafeteria, her sobbing audible to all within earshot. Gumball did nothing but stare at the door where his sister ran out, the scene not adding up to him.

Just as he began to head back to study hall, someone grabbed him by the wrist. Turning around, Gumball saw it was Rocky, not looking the least bit happy.

* * *

><p>Gumball had been sent to Principal Brown's office many times for several reasons in the past, including these last few repeats, but never had the principal looked as angry as he did now. But it wasn't just anger that Gumball detected. Disappointment, perhaps?<p>

Whatever it was, it didn't lessen the frown Principal Brown had on, nor did it lower the height of frustration in his voice. "I don't suppose you have a justifiable reason why you left study hall and did such a cruel thing?"

Gumball remained silent in the small chair, his own frustration at Anais still grasping a strong hold over his thoughts and common sense. "It was just a little food spilt on the floor, barely a waste."

This was clearly not what Principal Brown wanted to hear. His furry eyebrows, which blended with his the rest of his fur, became heavier, and his glasses shaped into two sharp triangles, aiming straight at the blue cat.

"That is NOT what this is about!" Brown snapped. "And I can hardly believe you appear so dimwitted about it, either! Honestly, Gumball! How could you have behaved so cruelly to Anais? Your own little sister!"

Gumball's guiltless expression didn't lessen, and why should it? Brown didn't know what Anais was doing to him, how she was keeping him in the Loop with her insistent reminders and other annoyances. Her face may be masked with that of a sweet little girl, but Gumball wouldn't be fooled, not after four repeats. As far as he considered, Anais had it coming.

Principal Brown, not seeing any hint of guilt in the cat, calmed himself, but only slightly. "I don't understand why you did this, Gumball, and to be honest, I don't think you know, either. Despite the fact that I've seen you two bicker here and there, your relationship with your sister has always been normal. Tricky, yet loving. But what you did . . ." he shook his head, "I could barely believe it when I heard it."

Then he paused. Something at that moment flickered inside Gumball and seemed to poke hard at his insides, but it was dismissed through his heated frustration a second later.

"You have detention for three weeks, Gumball. Starting today, with the Pep Fest." Brown said calmly. "And I hope that this time alone will be enough for you to think of your actions, and, more importantly, be enough to repair your relationship with your sister."

Then, just as Gumball stood up to leave, his father burst through the door, out of breath with bucket and soap in hand.

* * *

><p>Gumball sat on the blacktop bench, frustrated with how the last few hours had turned out.<p>

After hearing Principal Brown drawl on about whatever, he lived through the displeasure of having his father wash his mouth out with soap again. It was as awful the second time as it had been the first. Richard then took Anais home, patting her on the back as she cried into his shoulder.

Word caught on quick of what happened to her, and this is what really wrecked the day. Anais was apparently more popular than he knew, and as a result, everyone in school turned viciously on him. Glares directed towards him struck like lasers, mutters and insults were made every time he passed by or sat down, and the ugliest faces of every variety imaginable were shot at him wherever he was.

It wasn't fair, none of it! Gumball had every right to be angry! It's not his fault everyone around him was too stupid to realize what's going on.

His inner rant was interrupted when a basketball rolled over and tapped his foot. Picking it up, Gumball heard two pairs of feet stop in front of him.

"Oh, you," Banana Joe said in an uncharacteristically irritated voice. Tobias didn't look any more pleased.

Gumball grumbled irritably. "Oh, don't tell me you two are mad at me, too! You guys normally like stuff like that!"

"Dude," said Banana Joe, "you made a four-year-old girl cry. There's nothing funny about that."

"Especially when she's your sister," Tobias added, marching up and snatching the ball out of Gumball's hands. "I mean, me and Rachel fight a lot, there's no denying, but we would never do something like that to each other."

The two walked away leaving Gumball in his bitter annoyance. Not too long after, the bell rang and everyone headed inside for the Pep Fest. For the next forty-five minutes, Gumball waited in detention, the light from Principal Brown's office as dim as ever. Listening to the wall clock's relentless ticking, Gumball rested his head on his hands, wondering just how many more tries it would take to escape the Loop. For all he knew, it would be centuries before he'd ever hear the word 'Tuesday' again.

When Principal Brown came back, Gumball darted out the door before a word could be spoken and ran towards the gym. The day may have been ruined, but he still felt obliged to apologize to Penny for missing the Pep Fest.

As predicted, there Penny was, seated on the bleachers. When Gumball called out her name, she looked up and frowned bitterly. Gumball's heart ached enough to cause him pain. Never had Penny looked at him like that. There were times when she had been upset or annoyed, certainly. But _that_….

"Penny, what's wrong?" asked Gumball.

Penny gripped her pom-poms, got up, and walked past him, muttering something along the lines of, "Like you don't know."

Gumball's mouth fell open, hardly believing Penny was taking it like this.

"Penny! Wait, please!"

She stopped stiffly.

"I know you're mad about the Pep Fest, but maybe I can make —"

"You think I'm mad because you missed the Pep Fest?" Penny shouted, more outraged than Gumball had ever seen. "Is that _really_ the only thing you're thinking about?"

Gumball blinked, mouth agape. "Wha —"

"HOW could you have done that to Anais, Gumball? Your own sister!"

For the first time that day, Gumball didn't feel annoyed at his sister's mention. Instead, a twinge of guilt leaked through like a crack in an overflowing dam.

In a pathetic attempt to defend himself, Gumball said, "Penny, you don't know what she did. If you knew, you'd —"

"Did what?" she asked angrily, her eyes furrowed. "What horrible thing did Anais do to possess you to hurt her the way you did?"

Gumball raised a firm finger, confident to state his claim when, at long last, the truth of it all hit like a crushing boulder.

Everything he was angry with, all of Anais' supposed injustices, her so-called role in keeping the Loop from ending, all of that happened yesterday. Yesterday . . . .

Gumball's throat went dryer than a dead cactus. Everything he had been angry about, all the frustration and heated thoughts he cooked up throughout this long and very irksome day, was over a grudge that no longer existed. All those terrible things he thought about his sister were pointless and unnecessary. And there was no point in telling anyone about it because, one, the Loop erased everything when the day restarted, and two, everyone would be too angry to believe or listen to him.

This horrible comprehension must've shown on Gumball's face, for Penny said angrily, "Can't think of a thing, can you?"

Lowering his finger, Gumball bowed his head in shame. "No…."

Penny's face didn't soften. "Whatever stupid thing you're mad about, it was no excuse for what you did to Anais. What you did, that wasn't the Gumball I care about. Do me a favor and don't bother coming to the game tonight. We need as much spirit possible to win and I don't think seeing you will do anything for us."

Then, with disappointment in every step, Penny walked out of the gym, leaving Gumball speechless, unhappy, and angry, only this time with himself, and himself only.

* * *

><p>After missing the bus, Gumball took the opportunity while walking home to mentally slap himself across the face. For the life of him he couldn't fathom what possessed him to think Anais was in any way responsible for his situation. His little sister may have genius intellect, but even she can't disrupt the very fabric of time. And while Anais' anger for not taking her seriously about their mother's plate was, perhaps, significant, he knew there wasn't a thing else to blame her for.<p>

Worst of all, he had wasted the entire day fueled on anger instead of finding out what kept him in the Loop. How could he have been that stupid! It should've been more than obvious from Anais' soft "Morning, Gumball" that every terrible misfortunate from the previous day no longer existed.

Once outside the front of his house, Gumball inhaled a heavy breath of fresh air that hit his stomach like a lead stone. His mother's fury was bound to be at its peak and Gumball didn't like to think of what awaited him inside.

Sighing, he thought, _Just get it over and done with. Tomorrow will be a new day. Please, please let it be a new day!_

Gumball paused halfway down the house's walkway when Mr. Robinson called from beyond the fence. "Hey, kid!"

Gumball walked over to his grim-faced neighbor.

"I'm guessing your evening yesterday didn't go very well, am I right?" asked Mr. Robinson, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Gumball sighed. "No. Mom was angry about me forgetting to put Darwin's name on our science project, even though I managed to convince Miss Simian to give _him_ the good grade and have me take the F."

Mr. Robinson took the information in with a steady posture. He then asked, "Why was your sister crying when your father brought her home?"

Gumball dolefully explained how he trashed Anais with food, the scene fresh in his mind, making him feel even more pitiful.

Mr. Robinson raised an eyebrow. "And how did you think _that_ was going to help you escape the Loop?"

Gumball had no real answer, but merely responded, "I guess . . . I guess I was still angry about how close I came yesterday."

"And you blamed her, why?"

"Well . . . oh, I don't know! I guess she just really bugged me yesterday."

"Well, lucky for you you'll get to relive today. Tomorrow, or rather the next today, it'll just be a bad memory to add to all the others you've had lately. But, remind me, kid," Mr. Robinson said, his tone a little softer now. "You said that your mother forgave you yesterday for breaking her plate?"

"Well," Gumball sounded doubtful, "kind of. She wasn't as angry as all the other times at least."

"And you said you fixed your brother's grade and attended the Pep Fest?"

"Yeah. Well, actually I had my grade switched with Darwin's, but so what?"

"_So_," Mr. Robinson said with his usual seriousness, "it means that all those things, the plate, the grade, and the Pep Fest, are _not_ what's keeping you trapped. If they had, today would be Tuesday, and I wouldn't be having chicken alfredo for dinner again."

Gumball looked totally dumbfounded. "You mean . . . nothing I did yesterday mattered?" he felt his heart sink.

"I wouldn't say your actions weren't important. Chances are, they probably were, given the way your day was wrapping up. But what I mean is that there must be something _else_ keeping you here, something you're not aware of. Something more than a simple problem that needs fixing."

"What could it be, though?" Gumball asked, praying his neighbor might have an answer.

"How should I know? You're the one marked, not —"

Mr. Robinson abruptly stopped and his sight turned towards his house. He yelled, "All right, Margaret! I'm coming!"

Gumball blinked. "I didn't hear anything."

"Hardly anyone does," Mr. Robinson grumbled. "Anyway, kid, just think things over, I'm sure it'll come to you eventually. Live a few days, ask questions, try different things, do whatever. It's your Loop."

And without another word, Mr. Robinson ran back towards his house and slammed the door.

* * *

><p>Nicole's furious attitude came as no surprise. Her face was as close to the shade of red that Gumball saw on that first horrible day, and he could've sworn he heard a fuse hissing somewhere amongst her yelling.<p>

"How could you have done such a thing to Anais!" her voice shook with rage. "To embarrass her and act so cruel when she did nothing to you!"

Gumball said nothing, knowing there wasn't a word in his vocabulary that would lessen his mother's anger. He stood there and painfully took it in.

"You know what, don't even bother to explain yourself!" Nicole said through her sharp teeth. "Get to your room and stay there for the rest of the night! And don't you dare disobey or I'll see to it you'll never feel your bottom again!"

Gumball skedaddled up to his room. Once inside, he sat down on his bottom bunk, having no intention to defy his mother's orders. He may not feel it the next day, but his mother's spankings are wicked in the worst sense of the word.

That's mothers for you, though: warm hugs, strong hands.

* * *

><p>Gumball passed the hours watching the sunlight fade out of his room, leaving only the green numbers of his alarm clock glowing like fireflies in the dark. When his eyes had enough, Gumball stood from his bed to turn on the light. After he resumed his sitting and tried to find something else to preoccupy his boredom, the door opened.<p>

It was his father. Without speaking a word, he laid a plate of baked macaroni and cheese on the floor and gave his son an atypical frown before walking out. Quite clearly, Richard was as frustrated with Gumball as everyone else, and Gumball didn't blame him. Knelling on the floor to eat a dinner he had been fortunate to receive, Gumball thought back again to this afternoon, how he spilt food on Anais' dress, pushing carrots and fruit into her face, and practically serving cake on her little head. The image of it vividly ached in his mind, and watching her cry served as the final blow, leaving Gumball to feel despicable and ashamed.

* * *

><p>The evening wrapped up quickly and everyone decided to go to bed early, agreeing that today had been unpleasant enough. Nicole, her heated voice no cooler, told Gumball he would apologize to Anais first thing when he woke up and would beg to make up for his inexcusable action. Meanwhile, Anais, who had been miserable since lunch, was embraced by both her parents and Darwin, and tucked into bed.<p>

Gumball laid in the top bunk, his mind in a mix. Anais covered one section, his family and friends another, and the rest was taken up by the Loop and what he had learned so far. Remembering Mr. Robinson's words, Gumball thought it through and agreed with his neighbor. The plate, the grade, and the Pep Fest were not keeping him in this one bad day.

At least, he didn't think they were the _full_ cause. Obviously, they were things he would want to touch up later as he went along, but the big picture, the key to breaking the Loop, remained blurred. If it's not a mistake, then it must be a lesson he has to learn. Or, perhaps it _is_ a mistake through which a lesson can be learned. _Or_, the lesson could be based off the mistakes he made, which will lead…

Gumball stopped himself. His brainstorming was leading him nowhere except to more confusion. Sighing, he stared at the blank ceiling and allowed his brain to take a similar state. Like Mr. Robinson said, he would just have to see how things went. The answer will probably come to him in time; he'll just have to wait and pay attention.

On the downside, Gumball knew he would have to re-experience everything as it already happened. He's already lived this Monday five times and practically every event was now down flat for him to study. The same discussions and responses, the same rhythm of footsteps and hand gestures, the same food, grades, weather, all planned out as though it were a script for a television show. And when he woke the next morning, the script will flip back to page one and everything will happen again, with him aware of everything before it happens.

Then . . . Gumball's brain ignited with inspiration, realizing something.

Tomorrow, everything — absolutely everything — will start over. All memories will be erased, all injuries reversed, and all surprises awaiting to be surprises.

And Gumball . . . he had it all down in his memory.

In the darkness of his bedroom, a devious and excited smile formed on Gumball's face.

_Just because I'm in the Loop doesn't mean I can't have a little fun…._ _Why hurry when I have plenty of time? _All_ the time I could possibly want…_.

Laying his head back down on his pillow, Gumball stretched out his arms and crossed them, smirking at all that awaited him on the next repeat. Chances are he'll get into trouble, but with the mark on his shoulder, Gumball knew he could afford it all.

Like Mr. Robinson said, it was his Loop. And besides, what was time but moments passed and later gained again?

* * *

><p><strong>Next chapter should be a good one, I think. If you don't mind me asking, did you find Gumball's thoughts in this chapter too numerous? Am I telling more than showing? Please let me know. Your reviews and options are always welcome and appreciated.<strong>


	10. Play Time

**Hello again, everyone! I hope you're all ready for another chapter because things are about to get **_**very**_** interesting for Gumball. It's a shame I couldn't get this up in time for Groundhog Day. How great would've that been? But, oh well; the chapters are finished when they are finished.**

**DISCLAIMER: ****I OWN NOTHING**** from **_**The Amazing World of Gumball**_**, including characters, places, or any other references that may appear in this story, not a thing.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

_Play Time_

Gumball leapt quickly out from his bunk bed the next morning when the alarm sounded. The warm, 6:20 sunlight, completely identical to yesterday's, flowed through his bedroom window as he scrambled to get dressed. Not long after pulling his sweater over his head and buttoning his pants, the soft footsteps that could only belong to Anais patted outside and the bedroom door nudged open with the little pink bunny rubbing her sleepy eye.

"Morning, Gum— AH!"

Anais' eyes shot open, feeling a quick tug on her shoulders as she was pulled forward, stopping just an inch away from her brother's nose.

"Anais! Is today Monday?" Gumball asked frantically.

Rather surprised to see her brother this active so early in the morning, Anais slowly replied, "Yeah . . .?"

Gumball's excitement went off like a firecracker. He lifted his baffled sister off her feet and hugged her tightly.

"YES! It's started again! No yesterday! Just today!"

Once he dropped her back on the floor, Gumball happily twirled over to Darwin's fishbowl, giving the impression of an over-giddy, crazed ballerina.

Darwin emerged from the water with his usual smile. "Hey, Gumball. How's it go— wh-whoa! HEY!"

Gumball seized the fishbowl right off the dresser and merrily tossed it _and_ Darwin into the air. Half the bowl's water drifted out as it fell, soaking the carpet and lightly splashing Anais' foot, who flinched with a grossed-out face.

"EW! Fish water!"

Gumball caught the bowl right before it hit the ground and brought his face two inches away from Darwin's. "Hey, Darwin! It's _Monday_!" His voice was shaking, straining with laughter. "You know what that means?"

Shaken, Darwin was struck wordless by his brother's behavior. Eventually, he collected what little calm he could and hesitantly responded, "Uh . . . it means that . . . today's the day of the Pep Fest?"

Darwin didn't know what else Gumball wanted to hear, but it seemed to do the trick. His brother's face lit up and he started to laugh even more uncontrollably. He was sounding completely mental.

"Yeah! Yeah, it is!"

Placing Darwin and his fishbowl down on the floor, Gumball skipped out of the room and into the hall, humming a tune mixed with giggling and the occasional sputter. His siblings remained frozen in the room's sunlit square. Both had their eyes and mouths agape, wondering who the heck they just finished speaking to.

* * *

><p>Gumball was prancing up and down the hall, humming his self-made tune. In his mind, nothing could've been more perfect. Everything that happened yesterday was erased and all was back to square one. No worries about the plate, his sister, his brother's grade, the pop quiz, the cake, or anything or anyone or any anything! With Monday on a permanent rerun, all he had to do was open his arms and take it for all it's worth, and shrug off any annoyances that fall across his way. And no matter the pain, no matter the frustration, and no matter how many people or stuff he manages to push over the edge, no worries! Tomorrow won't be coming and any consequences will be tossed aside like yesterday's socks.<p>

Who knows, this Loop may turn out to be the best thing since sliced cheese!

Speaking of cheese. . . . Gumball stopped prancing and humming, feeling the space in his stomach as it grumbled, asking for food.

_Might as well start the day with breakfast_, he thought. _But what to have?_

Given that he had eaten Daisy Flakes for the past five repeats, Gumball now found the taste tiring and wanted something new on his taste buds. Toast was an option, but even with butter or jam it would still have the grainy texture that comes with chewing his family's typical Monday morning cereal.

No . . . a day he planned on making awesome should start with something equally awesome. After a few moments of tapping his chin with a fuzzy blue finger, Gumball's mind clicked. A brief memory of something he heard last week at school appeared out from the blurred mass, and it was enough to give him an idea.

_How will I get there in time, though?_

Gumball got his answer when his ears flicked at the sound of shuffling coming from his parents' room. Walking down the hallway, he peaked in through the crack of the door. His dad stood in front of the bedroom mirror, carefully tying his shiny new red tie around his shirt's collar.

The idea Gumball formed in his brain sparkled. _If Dad can run fast enough to school to wash my mouth out,_ he thought,_ I wonder how fast he'll go if he knows food's involved . . . ._ Gumball imagined the scenario, and his lips spread into a satisfied smile. _Perhaps I should grab a helmet_.

Clearing his mind, he walked into the bedroom just as his father finished folding his collar down over his tie. Gumball cleared his throat.

"Morning, son," Richard turned around. "You sleep okay?"

"Yes, quite nicely" said Gumball. "Nice tie, Dad."

"Thanks. It's brand new."

"I've noticed. Really quite shiny. Anyway, Dad, what do you plan on having for breakfast?"

"Well, I thought Daisy Flakes and toast were the usual Monday breakfast."

"Yeah, they are, but how would you like to have something a _little_ different?"

Richard raised an eyebrow, clearly interested. "What do you have in mind?"

Gumball walked to his father and motioned him to knell down. With Richard at his level, Gumball whispered into his father's large pink ear.

Richard's eyes widened with awe. "Really?"

"Yep."

"All this time and we never knew about it?"

Gumball nodded.

"Oh, yes! YES!" Richard was literally hopping with excitement, causing the bedroom to shake slightly. But then, in an abrupt thought, he stopped. "Wait, Gumball. Are we allowed to do that?"

Gumball waved his hand and scoffed. "Come on, Dad. There's always leftovers. And besides, what's a little food lost? After all, it's the teachers' jobs to make sure the students do well in school, and to do well in school usually requires eating breakfast. I'm sure they wouldn't want to deprive us of that essential element. And, as we all know, teachers encourage sharing, so what's the harm in letting you have some of the food, too?"

Gumball had to fight to keep himself from laughing at how ridiculous his rhetoric was. He knew that any rational-minded person wouldn't have bought it, but since this was his father, and the subject involved food, it was like luring a dog with a box full of steaks.

Overall, his father looked thoroughly convinced, but he still had one more thing to say. "What about your mom, Darwin, and Anais?"

"We'll invite them to come along. After all, the more the merrier, right?"

Richard smiled. "Right! Okay, let's go before the food gets cold!"

A few seconds later, the two of them were downstairs and out the door when Nicole's voice cried out.

"Gumball! I want a word with you!"

Not feeling the anxiety he always felt when his mother yelled, Gumball called out, "Some other time, Mom! Me and Dad are heading to school to have breakfast! Feel free to join if you guys want!"

"No, you're not! You will come here _right now _and — "

Hopping on his father's shoulders, Gumball grabbed hold of the large pink ears and yelled, "Dad, vamoose!"

Then, in only a second, Richard called on whatever speed he may have inherited through his rabbit blood and sped off down the road towards the school. As the houses, cars, and the 20 mph sign passed by in a blur, the only solid image Gumball's sight now had was his mother's agitated face which he caught a glimpse of before they dashed out of sight.

Meanwhile, Nicole stood in the doorway of her house, wearing her pink bathrobe, furiously clenching her broken china plate. Whipping back into the living room, she marched passed Anais and Darwin, both deeply confused by all that had happened in the day's first few minutes.

Climbing the stairs to her bedroom, their mother ordered, "Get dressed and in the car in five minutes! Gumball's not getting off the hook this easily!"

* * *

><p>Nicole slammed on the breaks right outside of Elmore Junior High School. The parking lot was empty except for Principal Brown's car and those of a few other workers that hardly anyone ever sees. Stepping out of the family car on this lovely blue sky morning, Nicole clenched her fists, her mood bubbling hot. She still hadn't eaten breakfast, hadn't a chance to wash-up or brush her teeth, and at this rate, she'll probably arrive late for work. "Oh, he is in <em>so much trouble<em>!"

Pushing the doors open with a force to match a football team, Nicole stomped inside. Darwin and Anais nervously followed after.

"I never thought Gumball breaking Mom's plate would play out like this," Anais said to Darwin, whom she had explained in the car what happened the night before.

"Me neither," he replied. "I know he's eager to cheer for Penny, but I never thought he'd want to get to school so early."

"AHA!" Nicole exclaimed. "I got you now!"

She marched onward like a hunter who spotted her kill, stopping outside the door to the Teacher's Lounge. Gripping the brass handle, she said, "Nowhere for you to run!" and then she yanked open the door.

Her heated face cooled in an instant to one perplexed.

"Oh, hey, honey!" Richard said, his mouth full as he chewed a donut. "Grab the kids and have some breakfast."

Stepping inside, Nicole, Darwin, and Anais stared at Gumball and Richard; both were seated at a table filled with food. There was a box of donuts with half the contents gone, a bag of scones and a plate with muffins, two boxes of cereal, some toaster pastries, and next to a bowl filled with various fruits was a pot of hot coffee and a sparking jug of sweet-scented orange juice.

"Richard," Nicole said perplexed, "what is all of this?"

The large rabbit bit down on a spoonful of sweetened raisin-bran with cranberries. Chewing, he pointed the spoon over at Gumball on the table's other end. Finishing a gulp of orange juice, Gumball responded,

"Elmore Junior High's Monday breakfast gathering. I heard Miss Simian talk about it last week to Principal Brown. She called it 'a delightful welcome for another excruciating week'."

"But that's preserved for teachers," Nicole said, her temper coming back. "Why are you two eating it?"

"Well, seeing that Principal Brown is doing his morning exercises in the pool, Mr. Small is currently counting a whole lot of coffee beans, and the other teachers haven't arrived yet, I thought it might be nice to grab some breakfast before they got here. I was getting tired of Daisy Flakes so I thought I'd have something new."

"What do you mean you're tired of Daisy Flakes? You haven't eaten any in four days."

"Where _I've_ been I have," said Gumball with a light chuckle.

Kicking his legs up to the table's surface, Gumball took a huge bite from of a sweet, polished Braeburn apple and motioned to his mother and siblings, "Come on, there's plenty for everyone."

"No, Gumball," Nicole said heatedly, grabbing the apple out of her son's hand. "First, you're going to explain to me why one of my antique china plates is broken, and then you're going to apologize to Principal Brown and the others for stealing their —"

She stopped speaking when Gumball suddenly held up a small piece of paper between two of his fingers.

Irritably, Nicole asked, "What's that?"

"Just read it," Gumball replied calmly, seizing his apple back.

Nicole swiped the paper and unfolded it, finding a message written in familiar handwriting:

**Hands off my scones!**

**-Lucy Simian**

Nicole's eyes shot to the white paper bag sitting on the table. The scones were perfectly shaped, mixed with blue, red, and yellow for the blueberries, cranberries, and apples that made them. The brown dough gave off a sweet scent that enticed not only Nicole's taste buds, but also the eternal flame that fed off her hate for an ancient baboon.

Dropping the slip of paper without a word, she snatched up the bag and stuffed an entire apple scone into her mouth, chewing it vigorously.

After swallowing, Nicole wiped a few crumbs off her whiskers and then held out her hand. "Richard, dear, pass me the coffee, please."

"Sure, honey," said Richard, and he held up the coffee pot and a Styrofoam cup. Nicole took only the pot and her family watched in amazement as she drank straight from the brim, taking in six huge gulps and draining half the coffee. Placing the pot down, she eyed the looks she was getting.

"What? It's vanilla roast. We don't get that kind at the Rainbow Factory."

As she started on another scone, the others went back to the food. Richard slurped down the last of his cereal. Darwin and Anais, shrugging their shoulders at the strangeness, decided to join in, helping themselves to a muffin and some fruit. And Gumball, smirking at the whole situation, reclined in his chair and took another bite from his apple.

_Nothing like a family breakfast_ . . . .

* * *

><p>The Wattersons left the Teacher's Lounge after half the food was gone. Richard began the way back home carrying the remaining donuts with him as he walked down the sidewalk. Darwin and Anais were told by their mother to go inside the school while she had "a little talk" with Gumball. The two obeyed with a look that told them to expect the worst for their brother.<p>

Gumball, however, looked as mellow as he did back in the Teacher's Lounge. If anyone else saw him they may have thought he was half asleep.

"Now, Gumball," Nicole said, her strict attitude returning, "despite how good that food was, and how great it will be to see that baboon ticked off, that doesn't save you from _this_," and she lifted up the plate that brought her here in the first place. "Would you mind telling me why I found it bro—"

Unexpectedly, Gumball grabbed the plate from her hand, stopping her reprimand in its tracks.

Gumball smashed the plate against his head.

"OPA!" he yelled with vigor, remembering the Greek culture documentary he once saw on TV; the phrase and action being the only things that had hooked his interest.

Nicole stood motionless. Looking down at the broken fragments laying on the black concrete, Nicole pointed at the bits and let off a soft shudder.

"You . . . my . . ." she looked back up to her son's calm, carefree face and back down to the ground, hardly able to stifle a breath.

"Well, have a nice day at work, Mom," and he turned away, leaving his mother in the parking lot with her stunned expression.

Gumball walked down the school hallway feeling like he just inherited a million dollars. He felt invincible, untouchable, beyond the boundaries of rules and worries. For the first time in his life, he was in trouble with his mother and didn't face any consequences. And even if he did later, it wouldn't mean anything the next day. _Nothing_ would mean anything. Everything about the day was his to enjoy and all he had to do was savor the ride, and that was, in its own way, better than a million dollars.

Only Darwin was in Miss Simian's classroom when Gumball walked in and took his seat. A look at the clock told him why: it was only 7:20. It wouldn't be for another half hour until the bus arrived.

"So, what did Mom do?" asked Darwin, sounding afraid to know the answer. "Why didn't you tell me you broke Mom's plate last night? Anais seemed very annoyed about it."

"Mom did nothing," Gumball shrugged carelessly. Smiling, he added, "I did, though."

Darwin could barely keep his jaw off his desk as Gumball recounted what happened with his mother's plate in the last minute. "And she didn't do _anything_?"

"Nope."

"Didn't that hurt, though?"

"You know, it's funny. I really thought it . . . would . . ." and Gumball brought his hand up to where he smashed the plate, just now feeling a brief yet sharp stab of pain rush through his cranium. "Okay, maybe it does hurt a little. But, man, you should've seen Mom's face. I never saw her look so freaked."

Chuckling, Gumball looked at Darwin, who didn't quite get what he was saying. "It's not that funny, Gumball."

"Ah, lighten up. Today's bound to be awesome."

_Or, at least, I'll make sure it ends up being very amusing_.

* * *

><p>Once the buses arrived and the hallways filled with footsteps and voices, the students from Gumball and Darwin's grade came one after the other through the classroom door, most if not all surprised to see them at school so early. Carrie floated by the two with a gentle wave and smile. When Penny stepped in, she beamed to see Gumball at his desk.<p>

"Oh, Gumball! I thought you might've been sick when you didn't show up on the bus."

"Nope." Gumball smirked. "Just adding a little variation to the otherwise same-old day."

"Huh?"

Darwin answered, "Gumball came to school early to eat breakfast."

"Really? I didn't know the school served breakfast."

"They don't. But the teachers do." Gumball chuckled, imagining Miss Simian's face when she finds her bag of scones empty.

"Right. . ." Penny said perplexed. "Anyway, its great to see you, Gumball. I can't wait for the Pep Fest. See you then."

Those around him expected Gumball to give a shy wave, as he usually did whenever Penny was close by him, but they were dumbstruck when, instead, he blew a kiss.

Penny's brown cheeks burned red in surprise. Speechless, and holding back a grin, she walked to her seat.

Darwin stared in astonishment at his brother. "Wow . . . . You are _really_ in a good mood today, Gumball."

"Hard not to when nothing can go wrong," he said, reclining in his seat.

"Something can _always_ go wrong, Gumball." Darwin didn't mean to sound negative when his brother was in this good a mood, but he knew carelessness when he saw it. He saw plenty of it in Gumball this past weekend, much to his and everyone else's annoyance.

Gumball, however, didn't seem worried. "Darwin, right now, the only things that matter to me is what's happening right now. The here and now is where I'm at, and I'm going to enjoy it for all its worth."

"What about things like Mom's plate and Miss Simian's scones? They're not going to just let them slide, you know."

"Probably not, but then again," Gumball shrugged, "maybe they will."

Darwin looked irritated. "Not likely, Gumball."

And a few seconds later, the classroom door was thrust open by a very agitated Miss Simian.

"Told ya," said Darwin.

"Everyone sit down and be quiet!" Miss Simian snapped, her face twisted with more anger than usual. Her wrinkly hands gripped the stack of grades so tightly that indents shaped like fingers could be made out in the paper.

Gumball was the only student who didn't flinch at her attitude. _I guess she really wanted those scones. Maybe I should keep Mom from seeing that note the next time around . . . ._

A few minutes later, Principal Brown announced the day's events over the intercom, every word the same as before. Miss Simian's attitude didn't seem to improve even with her boyfriend speaking. She was too busy going through the order of the grade sheets to give her Nigel any attention, or to notice Gumball silently mouthing each word as Principal Brown spoke them.

About an hour later into the morning class, Miss Simian was out of her furious state and now in her make-everyone-miserable state. She declared a pop quiz.

"Watterson!" she smirked, all of her pale teeth gleaming. "Kindly tell the class —"

"You want me to come up and recite the six noble gases?"

Miss Simian's face lost all its vicious joy. "What? Bu— How did—"

"Sure thing!" Displaying a grin he knew Miss Simian would hate, Gumball leapt from his seat. Clearing his throat, he closed his eyes, placed his hands behind his back, and spoke to the class. "The six noble gases are Helium, Neon, Argon, Xenon, Radon, and Krypton. _Also_," Gumball opened his eyes and lifted a finger, "the next question Miss Simian is going to ask is in the subject of geography and what the four major mountain ranges in North America are. They are the Rockies, the Appalachians, the Cascade Range, and Sierra Nevada."

Miss Simian collapsed into the chair behind her desk, looking as though she was witnessing someone's head melt.

Gumball continued. "Next, along with much of the other meaningless trivia she had us go over, British authors. The three Brontë sisters were Charlotte, Emily, and Anne. Or, if you're talking about them through their pennames, they would be Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell. Next, the shortest lived United States president was William Harrison . . . "

". . . and lastly, Miss Simian threw us a trick question. It's physically impossible to guess Miss Simian's actually age because she was born long before birth certificates or paper were invented, and also because carbon dating is illegal to perform on a live person."

The entire class stared with their jaws hanging. Gumball, considered to have an intelligence just below the line of average, not only got all the answers right, but stated every single one Miss Simian planned to say, as was guessed by her stunned statue-like expression.

Gumball chuckled to himself. "And to think I didn't do _any_ reading this weekend." Walking to back to his desk, he paused and his face fell serious. "Seriously, I didn't read a thing."

Once Gumball was seated back in his desk, Miss Simian, who hadn't breathed at all during the last three minutes due to disbelief, finally tipped over in her chair and fell to the floor, semi-unconscious, muttering speech of the utmost bewilderment.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you forgot to include me on our science report!" Darwin shouted as he and Gumball walked to lunch. "You couldn't even remember to put my own name down!"<p>

Gumball's face remained blithe as though he and Darwin were complimenting the weather. What had once been something that made the day feel sullen and his spirit guilty now didn't seem very significant. True, Gumball loved Darwin and cared about his grades, but after five repeats it now just felt tiresome to talk about the science report.

"I really wouldn't let it trouble you too much, if I were you, buddy."

"We spent _weeks_ working on it!"

"And it's just _one_ F. Out of all the other good grades you'll make down the line, all of it will pile up on top of each other and ultimately cover up this one little flop you made."

"Flop _I_ made?" he yelled. "You told me last Friday you'd put my name on —"

"Trust me," Gumball said casually, "you'll forget all about it tomorrow." _That and a few other things._

Patting his brother's orange cheek, Gumball entered the cafeteria. Darwin, gritting his teeth with irritation, walked in after him.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Mr. Small," said Gumball, coming out of the lunch line with his tray of food.<p>

"Hello, Gumball," Mr. Small replied at his portable desk. "Would you like to take a guess at the coffee beans?"

"Sure." Smirking, he went on, just for the heck of it, "How does this work?"

"You just take a guess at the closet number you think is in this bottle," he said, tapping the plastic lid with his pen. "If you guess closest without going over, you win a prize at Pep Fest."

"Okay." Gumball foolishly taped his chin with his finger, pretending to think. "I believe . . . you said it was around 52,500 or so?"

"All right," Mr. Small scribbled on his clipboard. "52,500 that you thought I . . . hey, wait a minute!" he frowned with confusion. "What do you mean 'I said'?"

Grinning, Gumball answered, "Oh . . . you know." _Or not_ . . . .

Stifling his laughter, Gumball walked away and waited for Darwin to make his guess. Expecting his brother to be calmer, he was surprised (though only slightly) by Darwin's annoyed grimace.

"Hey, bro, ready to eat?"

"Yeah," Darwin grumbled. "Go eat by yourself."

Pushing past, Darwin marched to where Rachel sat and took a seat next to her.

Gumball merely shrugged. _Oh well, I'll wait and let his gills cool a little. He'll be fine._

Glancing over at his and Darwin's usual spot, he saw it was, as expected, vacant. Today, however, Gumball decided he would try something different, something brash; the one thing no boy in school had the guts to do.

With his face calm and his confidence high, he took his first step, then another, and another, and when he stood in front of the table that was his destination, he placed down his tray, seated himself, and brightly said, "Hey, ladies, how's it going?"

None of the girls from Gumball's class said anything. Molly froze in place just as she was about to take a bite from her cake. Teri stopped drinking her juice carton, spilt a drop, and stained her chin light orange. Carmen and Leslie halted on chewing their pasta, Masami glowered with disapproval, and Penny, seated right next to Gumball, was the only one who didn't appear confused, at least not entirely.

"Uh . . . hi, Gumball," said Penny hesitantly.

"Hey, beautiful," Gumball winked and took a bite of his cake, ignoring Penny's blush. "How is everyone today?"

Masami, clearly aggravated at this unexpected visitor, scowled, "Gumball, what are you doing here?"

"What does it look like? I'm eating my lunch, just like all of you."

"I mean why are _you_ at the girl's table?"

Gumball looked confused, although his tone suggested sass in every word. "The 'girl's table'? I'm sorry, Masami. I wasn't aware the tables were specially reserved."

Masami grumbled, turning a shade grayer, "They're not! It just that we get used to eating at the same tables, and _you_ normally don't sit here!"

"True," he said, swallowing a piece of cake. "I don't. But Darwin's in a mood today because of something I forgot, and so I thought instead of sitting by myself I'd change things around and sit here. You do have one spot empty after all."

"That's Carrie's spot," said Carmen.

Gumball raised an eyebrow. "Really? That seems kind of pointless. I mean, she floats all the time."

"That's not the point!" Masami spat, turning darker. "The point is we don't want you to sit here!"

"Really?" he calmly asked. "_All_ of you don't want me to sit here? What, do you all hate boys or something?"

"What?" Penny shook her hands. "No, no, Gumball! We don't hate boys. Leslie sits here with us, see?"

Leslie rose his green, leafy arm and waved.

Gumball lifted an eyebrow. "And?"

Penny looked confused. "_And_, Leslie's a boy."

"He is?"

All the girls gasped lightly. Leslie, looking quite offended, stated, "Of course I'm a boy!"

Gumball smirked and went on with the joke. "You sure about that?"

"Yeah, I'm sure! And you should know! You've seen me in the boy's locker room plenty of times!"

"Well, yeah, but I never look or anything. I mean, come on, Leslie, I like you as a friend, but _that_?"

Leslie's stunned yellow face turned redder than overripe tomato juice. The girls surrounding him couldn't have gone more bug-eyed; Masami actually lost all her gray frustration and looked whiter than usual.

"Gumball!" Penny said disapprovingly. "What's gotten into you?"

He shrugged. "Don't know," taking a sip of his milk. "I guess I'm taking in too much of what I have right now."

Penny stared at him. "What?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Let's just say I don't have to worry as much as I thought. But, anyway, you all made it clear that I'm not wanted, so I'll just —"

"Hey, Gumball," came a calm voice. Turning his head, Gumball saw that Carrie had floated up beside him, holding her cake on its plate. "I was wondering if —" Lifting her gaze, Carrie realized just then where Gumball was seated. "Gumball, why are you sitting with the other girls?"

He shrugged simply. "Eh, I thought I'd switch things up a bit, but the girls clearly don't want me here. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, uh . . . no reason," said Carrie, and she fought back a tiny blush — a blush that only Penny noticed. "Anyway, I was wondering if you could help me eat this cake?"

Gumball appeared to think it over for a moment, and said, "Sure, why not?"

Carrie's face brightened. "You will?"

"You will?" Penny asked, surprised. "Gumball, didn't you say that the last time you let Carrie —"

But before Penny could finish, Gumball grabbed his half-eaten cake and then took Carrie's. "Open wide," he said.

Carrie blinked. "What?"

Before she could react, Gumball jumped from his chair to the ghost girl's height and, with the two pieces of cake in hand, slammed them together through Carrie's transparent head, turning them into a brown and green squashy sandwich. The pieces plopped to the floor with not a crumb sticking to Carrie's clean, startled face.

"Well, there you go, Carrie," Gumball said with a foolish smile. "See you, ladies. You, too, Leslie. I was just joking, by the way."

Gumball walked away, leaving the girls (and Leslie) to gape after him. Carrie's eyes fixed on the floor where her slice of cake lay smashed and ruined.

She got so close . . . .

* * *

><p>Making his way down the school hallway, Gumball contemplated what he should do next. The school day was half over and he wanted to do one last crazy thing before the Pep Fest, just to make this day feel like a real hoot. But what should he do? Perhaps he could somehow prank Anais, like gluing her locker together, but that seemed kind of lame. Not to mention, from what happened yesterday, Gumball figured Anais deserved a break from his antics.<p>

His thoughts, instead, turned to Darwin.

Darwin, he thought, was a little too stubborn about this whole grade thing. Sure, getting an F is never something to smile about, but it's just one little grade. And since the grade wasn't keeping the Loop from ending, it mustn't be all that important, right?

Gumball ought to do something to absolve his brother's anger. Or in the very least, give himself something else to think about. Something . . . unexpected . . . . Then, with thoughts too random to categorize, Gumball's brain cooked up an idea so ridiculous, it would be mind-boggling to actually see it work.

_Loop,_ he thought deviously,_ let's see if you have limits on crazy_.

After the bell rang for study hall, Gumball made his way to the nurse's office and peaked in through the door's window. The band-aid nurse was writing on a few papers, quietly humming when she stopped and looked up at the clock. This must've been either the nurse's lunch break or coffee break, because she placed down her pen, grabbed a Tupperware container and thermos from her desk, and walked out of her office, not seeing Gumball who had kept hidden from behind the door. Once she was far enough down the hall, Gumball zipped inside and grabbed the cordless phone off her desk.

Snickering as he pressed the number keys, Gumball's mind spun with the wild idea. _This will either be hilarious or end so terribly that no one will be able to help but laugh._

Pressing the phone to his blue ear, Gumball cleared his throat and tried to calm his mind. He would have to sound professional to make this sound convincing. Then again . . . given who he was calling . . . maybe not . . . .

* * *

><p>Richard Watterson sat on the couch back home, performing his daily exercise of flipping through the channels every three seconds. He had done the same thing on most week days and hadn't experienced anything spectacular during those quiet hours.<p>

Today, the phone rang.

Muting the TV, he got up and hit the SPEAK button on the receiver. "Hello? Watterson residents."

"Yes, hello," came a stern, adult voice. "This is Richard Watterson, Darwin Watterson's father, correct?"

"Yeah. Who is this?"

The speaker on the other line cleared his throat. "This is Dr. Dedrick Doctorson of Elmore Hospital and we've called to confirm that the results came back positive."

Richard opened his mouth to reply, but his brain couldn't connect with what the doctor told him. "Uh…what came back positive?"

"That your son, Darwin Watterson, is pregnant."

"Ooooooh. Okay. Thanks for call— wait, WHAT?" Richard exclaimed. "Darwin?"

"Yes," the doctor confirmed.

"Pregnant?"

"Yep. I wish you and your family the warmest congratulations." The phone let off a click.

Richard stood for a moment, his mind flopping with questions as the phone hummed its dial tone. Then, he flew to the phonebook. Once on the Rs for the Rainbow Factory, he slid his finger down the page, scanning over a hundred phone numbers for the many departments and offices.

"Which number is Nicole's?" Richard frantically looked down at the many selections. Not remembering, the large rabbit grabbed the phone and started dialing. "Might as well start with the first number."

Meanwhile, back on the other end where the call originated, Gumball walked out of the nurse's office.

_And so one little rumor is made. Let's see how quickly it can spread_.

* * *

><p>Study Hall ended normally without anything exciting. Afterwards, Miss Simian drawled on with a lecture in her classroom. Seated to Gumball's right, Darwin still had the grumpy face from this morning.<p>

"And you see, class," said Miss Simian, "if one were ever to —"

BANG!

Miss Simian jumped to the ceiling while the whole class, minus Gumball, turned in shock to where the classroom door once stood. Standing in the doorway was Nicole Watterson.

Stepping inside to the startled classroom, she yelled, "Where is he?"

Jumping back down to the floor, Miss Simian sneered. "What do _you_ want, loser? You can't just inter— "

Nicole grabbed Miss Simian by the face and pushed her backwards into the chair at her desk. Then, stomping so hard she left holes in the tiled floor, Nicole approached, seething with anger and terrifying each classmate, even Tina.

Gumball remained peacefully in his seat, calm as a cucumber.

Nicole stopped in front of Darwin and breathed through her teeth, "How did it happen?"

"How did _what_ happen?" Darwin squealed in terror.

"Don't play dumb with me!" she slammed her palms on his desk. "How did you get pregnant?"

"I —" Darwin's face froze as though he just swallowed a rock. Every student, minus Gumball, looked from one to another, confused and freaked out all in one.

"Listen, loser!" Miss Simian rose from her seat. "I don't know what this —" her scowl dropped. "Wait, what'd you say?"

"_WHAT_?" Darwin exclaimed.

"All right, that's it!" Nicole grabbed Darwin's fin and pulled him out of his seat. "We're going straight to the doctor to get this figured out!"

"But, Mom, I swear, I'm not pregnant! I couldn't even —" but Darwin was out the door and down the hall before the rest could be heard.

Miss Simian and her entire class, minus Gumball, stared speechless at the doorway.

"What the heck is going on today?" Miss Simian asked to no one in particular.

The answer to that question, nobody knew. Nobody, of course, except Gumball.

_And just like that_, he thought, smirking outwardly and inwardly, _I gave Darwin the rest of the day off from school. He can thank me later._

* * *

><p>The smirk Gumball sported throughout the day remained on his face well into the evening. Sitting on the couch back home, the earphones of his new MP3 player in his ears, Gumball joyfully ignored all the rambling that went on in the background.<p>

In the kitchen, Nicole and Richard were trying to make sense of the confusion that had persisted that afternoon. Of course Darwin wasn't pregnant, and when Nicole got to the hospital, it was revealed that nobody there made any calls to the Watterson house. There also wasn't any Dr. Dedrick Doctorson employed at the hospital, and there was no record of such a doctor by that name licensed anywhere in the state.

Nicole lost three hours on her work shift and was in a bad mood due to it all being for nothing. Richard had also been a little hectic because of the idea of there being another little Watterson in the house. Not that he hated the idea — he would love to be a grandpa someday — but he was perfectly fine with the three kids he had now. Still, it was pretty frustrating. After contacting Nicole and telling her the news, he had spent most of the afternoon looking for new baby supplies all over town, a tough task given that he didn't know where to go and had already spent a lot of his energy that morning when he ran Gumball to school to eat breakfast.

Turning his glance upstairs, Gumball imagined Darwin in his room, irritable by how crazy the day had been for him. Given the bad grade he received, being dragged out of school by his mother, _and_ missing the Pep Fest, Gumball could hardly blame him. But, oh well, maybe another day . . . .

Anais, meanwhile, sat on the couch, looking quite annoyed with her brother.

"I can't believe you guessed the closest to the number of coffee beans in that bottle," she said grumpily.

Removing his ear phones, Gumball asked. "What did you say?"

"You heard me!" she yelled. "There's not even any songs on that thing! You've just been imagining for the last two hours! It looks so stupid!"

"Well, until I buy some songs I'll just sit here with it, imagining the joy that this little device will bring me."

Anais' hands shook, her frown bitter with envy. "Remind me again. How exactly did you know there were approximately 52,500 beans in that bottle?"

"I told you," Gumball said simply. "I just took the biggest number I thought could fit into that bottle and made that my guess."

This, of course, wasn't true, but Anais didn't need to know that. And besides, even if Gumball did tell the truth, Anais was far too intelligent to believe something as strange as a time loop.

"I was off by a few coffee beans, you know. What was it, 600 something?"

"691!" Anais snapped. "You were off by 191!"

"Thanks for the reminder," Gumball said politely. "I'll need to remember that the next time around."

Anais eyed him suspiciously. "What do you mean 'the next time around'?"

"Oh, nothing. Nothing important," but he couldn't hide the smile that was etched on his face.

Frowning, Anais got off the couch. "Uh-huh. Please excuse me while I go figure out how you cheated."

Gumball shook his head. "I didn't cheat."

"Sure, you didn't," she replied sarcastically. "You, who can't do long division without a calculator, suddenly inherited the magic number that won you an MP3 player."

"Maybe I did."

Anais let out an annoyed huff.

"Anais, are you sure you're not just angry that I didn't tell Mom about her plate because you're secretly worried that I would get into even more trouble if I don't fess up? Ahhhhh, sis," he said sweetly, "I didn't know you cared that much. Thank you for thinking about me."

Anais blinked in surprise, but then she bared her teeth, let off an exasperating growl, and stomped off to her bedroom.

Laying down on the couch, Gumball sighed in relaxation and turned on the TV.

"Coming up," said the news anchor, "the match between Elmore and Seymore that will decide who progresses into the quarterfinals. But for now, stay turned after the break where we'll call out today's winning lottery numbers."

As the commercial rolled, a smile grew on Gumball's face. "I better get a writing pad."

Once he had it and was back on the couch, Gumball tugged his sweater's collar, revealing the black eight on his shoulder, and kissed it. Right now, it looked so beautiful mixed with his light blue fur.

Covering it back up, Gumball copied the numbers to five different lotteries as they came up on the TV screen.

"I wonder what _else_ I can do with my time." Smirking, he muttered, "What indeed . . . ."

* * *

><p><strong>That's all for now, everyone. More of Gumball's fun will commence in the next chapter, where the days will start passing by even quicker.<strong>

** As usual, all reviews for this story, positive or negative, are welcome.**


	11. Time in Pieces, PART I

**DISCLAIMER: ****I OWN NOTHING**** from **_**The Amazing World of Gumball**_**, including characters, places, or any other references that may appear in this story; not a thing.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

_Time in Pieces  
><em>_PART I_

Ignoring the bright blue sky this Monday morning presented, Nicole walked from her house to the block's curb in a fit of annoyance. She had woken at 6:15 like she did every morning, took some time to stretch, and steadily walked downstairs in her pink bathrobe to eat a quiet Monday breakfast, as was expected since everyone in her house were usually groggy on Monday mornings. This one started differently.

Upon walking into the kitchen she caught a whiff of trouble, coming from a most unusual place: the top of the refrigerator. Resting on top was one of her good china plates; a small one but no less dear. Holding the saucer, she saw it had been cracked near the middle and sloppily glued back together. The two pieces weren't properly aligned and the excess of glue suggested that whoever broke it must've been in a hurry, and most-likely worried. But there really was no questioning who did it. Stuck on the plate's sticky surface was a strand of blue fur, and it wasn't Nicole's.

She yelled for her son and, almost right away, Gumball walked in through the kitchen's doorway, looking remarkably calm. Before Nicole could state just how upset she was, Gumball approached her, grabbed the plate, and smashed it against his forehead.

"OPA!" he yelled with celebration.

Nicole could only stand there and gape down at the plate, broken after surviving two generations.

Back in the present, she slammed her car door and started the engine.

"That's the last time we watch a documentary on Greek Culture," she muttered. Calming down, she pulled her car out of the curb and drove off to work, reminding herself along the way that one plate really isn't worth that much fuss.

Breathing a kindly sigh, she thought, _I'm sure Gumball didn't mean it_.

A few moments after Nicole left, Anais and Darwin stepped outside their house to wait for the school bus. Bathed in warm morning sunlight, the two stood on the sidewalk, fighting the impulse to grumble with irritation. Neither were happy with Gumball at the moment.

This morning, when she woke up, Anais entered her brothers' bedroom to talk to Gumball about their mother's plate, but before she could get out a greeting, Gumball pulled her forward and, while laughing, tossed her up in the air, high enough to reach the ceiling. Then, as she was airborne, he skipped over to Darwin and shouted, "HEY, BUDDY!", scaring his brother awake. He then tossed the fishbowl with Darwin inside into the air while Anais fell back to the floor, grunting, and reacting in time to see the fishbowl hit the carpet and spill over. And the only thing Gumball had to say about this early-morning lunacy was, "Glad to see you're both awake. Come on or the day will start without us. Oh, and by the way, Dad's got a new tie, so try to act like you're interested."

He stayed in that haughty attitude through breakfast despite the glances they and their mother flung him. He seemed to be off in his own world, not one with the present moment. It reminded them of how he behaved over the weekend: giddy, scatterbrained, deaf and blind to all around him . . . .

* * *

><p>Whilst Darwin and Anais brushed their teeth and then made their way to the sidewalk, Gumball rummaged in his bedroom through one of his dresser drawers, grabbing five single dollar bills hidden from underneath a grass-stained shirt that had, long ago, been deemed permanently blemished. Gumball meant to save those dollars along with the rest he kept hidden for something special. Today, or rather yester-today, he had plans that would amount those few dollars into something beyond what he could've dreamt of before the Loop.<p>

Rushing out of his bedroom and back downstairs, Gumball stopped Richard just as he dropped himself on the couch, ready to turn on the TV and splurge away the morning.

"Dad, can you do me a favor?" asked Gumball.

"Sure, son," said Richard. "It doesn't involve exercise, does it?"

"Just a little walking. Is that a problem?"

"I . . . guess not. What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to go to the nearest gas station. Take these five dollars," he held up the money, "and buy five lottery tickets with these numbers." Gumball pulled a piece of paper out from his pants pocket and handed it over. Unfolding it, Richard saw the top five lotteries listed with a set of random numbers.

Richard stared at his son. "Gumball . . . you know your mother doesn't like gambling."

"I know," he said quickly, "but I have a good feeling about these numbers." A good feeling, of course, was the fact that he chanted these numbers in his head over and over the evening before until they stuck there, like everything else he memorized throughout the time loop.

Richard, however, didn't look very convinced. "Gumball, you're too young for that. Don't get me wrong, the chance to win millions of dollars is exciting; Oh, don't I know it!" his face beamed for a moment. "But even _I_ know how hard it is to win the lottery. Your mother is awfully strict about it, and I don't blame her. The last time I gambled without thinking, we lost most of our family's money."

Richard's face drooped, no doubt remembering the Internet deal that amounted to nothing, taking with it more money than anyone could ever earn back. The only bright side to that blunder was that he didn't lose Nicole. If he had . . . Richard couldn't bear to imagine it.

"Dad," Gumball sympathized, "this is different. That was thousands; this is only five bucks. Besides, it's _my_ money, and I want to try and use it to earn us some more."

Gumball held out the dollars to his father and glanced behind to look out the window. Anais and Darwin were still waiting on the sidewalk, though he knew it wouldn't be much longer until the bus came.

"Dad?"

Richard glanced down again at the list his son had given. There was no sense to how the numbers were chosen, and, although numbers had never EVER been a skill of his, Richard couldn't help but be a little curious at how Gumball selected these ones in particular. Taking a deep breath that was more of a sigh, Richard responded, "Okay, Gumball. We'll do it this once, but no more after today. I may be immature, but even I know we can't afford to waste money, especially on something like the lottery."

"Dad, trust me," Gumball handed his father the money, "if this works (and it will), we won't have to worry about wasting money anymore." _At least not until tomorrow when I do it all again and we have this same conversation_.

Before his father could say anything else, Gumball ran out the front door. The school bus had arrived perhaps moments ago, and he caught it just as Darwin's tailfin disappeared behind the front seat nearest the open glass doors.

* * *

><p>After school, Gumball jumped off the bus and ran inside to the living room, wanting to get to Dad right away. He forgot to tell his father to keep the tickets hidden so Mom wouldn't catch sniff of them. But, as he feared, there was his mother standing by the couch, her hands on her hips. His father stood from behind her, his hands sheepishly raised.<p>

Nicole had on the same look of aggravation Gumball had seen so many times before. It wasn't until Darwin and Anais walked in and closed the door that she revealed what she had clenched in one of her fists.

"Gumball," she said firmly. "What are these?"

Her son stood calmly without a trace of anxiousness as he stared at the slips of paper.

"Well, what do you think they are, Mom? Tickets to the circus?"

"Don't you be smart-alecky with me, young man! I can't believe you would waste your money on lottery tickets! And you!" she turned to her husband, who was smiling uneasily. "How could you allow our son to convince you to do that! The lottery, Richard!"

Raising his hands, he spoke carefully. "I know, I know, Nicole! But it was only five dollars, and Gumball seemed really certain of himself."

"_Certain_?" Nicole said heatedly. "There's NOTHING certain about the lottery, Richard! The odds of winning are so microscopic it's practically nonexistent! You'd have better luck digging for gold in our backyard!"

"Really?" Richard's face beamed.

"_No_! I was just — " Growling, Nicole pinched the bridge between her eyes and turned back to her son. "Gumball," she said in a serious but caring voice, "promise me you'll never waste your money like that again."

Her son replied, "We won't know if it was a waste until this eve—"

"Promise me!" she repeated. "Please!"

Sighing, Gumball replied, "Okay. I promise." He felt slightly bad about saying this, because he knew there was no point in promising. When he wakes up to the next repeat, everything will start over again; none of this will have happened.

Nicole gave a small smile and nodded. "Thank you." Then, with the five lottery tickets in hand, she held them out to Gumball. "Now go throw these away, please."

Richard let off a moan. "Ah, Nicole. What if they're —"

"Trust me, dear. They're not. My father played the lottery for years and never won even once. Granted, he played wisely, but, nevertheless, he never got further than three out of six numbers. Gumball, will you, please?"

Gumball, his expression placid, reached out and took the tickets from his mother's hand without complaint and proceeded into the kitchen. He motioned over the trashcan but didn't drop the tickets in. Instead, he quickly stuffed them down his sweater and made sure they were snug enough not to crinkle when he moved. Turning around, he saw his mother looking satisfied.

About an hour later, just before Nicole was about to prepare dinner, Gumball seated himself on the couch and turned the TV on to the evening news. He called out, "Hey, everyone! Come over here!"

Nicole walked in from the kitchen; Anais and Darwin exited their rooms and made their way down the stairs; and Richard, who had been asleep on the couch's side, woke with a gasp and turned his head in every direction as though someone had thrashed him with cold water.

"Ahhhh . . . easy on the volume, son," he said, rubbing his large pink ears.

"I agree," Nicole nodded. "What is it, Gumball?"

"Everyone, pay attention." He pointed at the TV. His family saw a commercial advertising a garden hose that could be used for several purposes, such as a tow rope, a grappling hook, a Halloween decoration, even colonoscopies, all for only twenty-five payments of $19.95.

"Gumball," Nicole said with annoyance, "we are not —"

"Not _that_!" Gumball shook his head. "This!"

The TV screen went blank, and then the logo for the evening news flashed across, followed by two words in red and black writing:

**Daily Lottery**

"Mom, have a seat," Gumball said, hopping off the couch and motioning his mother to take the space.

Sighing, Nicole said, "Not this, Gumball. I have to get busy with din—"

"Seriously," Gumball replied gravely. "You'll really want to see this."

Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled out a piece of folded paper and held it out to his mother. Curious, Nicole sat down in the couch's offered space and unfolded the note, finding the names of the top five lotteries along with a group of numbers. By the looks of it, they were the same numbers on the tickets she confiscated from Richard.

A light grumble emerged from Nicole's throat. "Gumball! I told you this is just a waste of time! I thought we decided to —"

Gumball held up a finger and Nicole fell quiet at once. All eyes were on Gumball as he guided them to the TV screen where a cheery announcer stood by.

"Good Monday evening, everyone," the announcer said with a bright bleached smile. "Time for our winning jackpots, starting, as always, with the National Lottery. Our winning numbers are . . ."

For five lotteries, the man called out numbers as they popped up at random in spinning bowls. One after the other, they came and went, and when it was over, a silence the size of a blue whale flowed through the Watterson's living room.

Richard, Darwin, and Anais' mouths were hanging open, their faces slammed with total shock. They had just finished reading off the numbers on the sheet of paper as the man called them out. Every number in the lotteries was on the paper Gumball had given, every last one . . . .

Nicole, holding the sheet of paper in both hands, remained motionless in her seat. Slowly, she looked down for the 10th time at the numbers written out before her, then back up at the TV. Her mouth was set in a thin line, neither happy nor upset, but nothing that implied a peaceful mind. Her entire body, from her blue ears to her furry feet, seemed rigid as though she were welded to the couch.

"Uh . . . Honey?" Richard said cautiously, tapping his wife's shoulder. Nicole didn't flinch; she didn't even appear to be breathing. "Nicole?"

Five whole minutes passed and still Nicole sat like a perfectly carved statue, sculpted to sit forever in one spot and permanently hold a befuddled expression that made everyone uncomfortable.

Gumball slid the paper out from her hands and shook his head.

"Tsk tsk tsk. Too bad, Mom," he said calmly. "Maybe tomorrow." And he placed the list of numbers on the couch's arm, right alongside Nicole whose hands remained suspended in midair as though they were still holding the paper.

"Well," Gumball shrugged his shoulders, "I'm gonna get started on dinner. If anyone would like to help, I'd be more than —"

"FIND THOSE TICKETS!" Richard jumped off the couch and, while in midair, zoomed through the wall, into the kitchen. Ignoring that he was in a tremendous amount of pain due to plunging through wood and solid stucco, Richard dumped the kitchen's trashcan upside down and pilfered through the contents like a starved hobo.

His children watched him with surprise — Gumball being more carefree.

"You know, Dad," Gumball said over of his father's rummaging, "I think I saw Mom take the tickets and put them in someone else's trashcan, just in case we tried to take them out."

This, of course, wasn't true. The lottery tickets were still stuffed in Gumball's sweater. But Richard, who didn't know this, stopped what he was doing and ran out the door without thinking twice.

Smirking and shaking his head, Gumball said, "Come on, Darwin. Come on, Anais. Let's make dinner."

Gumball searched through the pantry cupboards and grabbed the box of baked macaroni and cheese. Before he could search for the wheat crumbs that would be used to sprinkle over top the noodles, a voice called out.

"How did you know about the lottery?" Anais asked with accusation. She and Darwin were standing in the kitchen's doorway.

Gumball went on looking for ingredients as though he didn't hear her. She asked again, but still Gumball stayed quiet.

"Pay attention to me, Gumball! There's no way you could've guessed all those lottery numbers! Your mind would have to be god-like in order to —"

Anais went on like that as Gumball went about making dinner. He was completely at ease with everything around him, and, as he prepared the meal with skill to match his mother's, he quietly wondered how many public trashcans his father had searched through by now.

Gumball pulled the mac and cheese out of the oven; it's smooth scent filled the kitchen like a warm candle. Placing the dish on the dining room table, Gumball returned to grab three plates and three forks. Back outside at the table, Anais was breathing exhaustedly.

"Gum . . . ball," she huffed and puffed, "tell . . . tell me how . . . you did it. It's . . . it's impossible. There's no . . . no way —"

"Take it easy, Anais," Gumball said gently. "A smart girl like you will think of the answer soon enough. Now, how about some mac and cheese to fill that little belly?"

"Oh . . . uh . . . sure, that's probably a good idea."

The three Watterson siblings sat down to eat dinner, then walked off in different directions as the night took hold. Anais headed upstairs to her bedroom muttering complex equations under her breath, trying to think of a logical explanation for Gumball's luck with the lottery. Darwin, who had spent most of the day irritated by Gumball's lapse of memory in their science report, was now emotionally exhausted and decided to have a hot bath before bed.

Gumball, meanwhile, cleaned up dinner and then watched the football game between Elmore and Seymour. The game was interrupted halfway when a breaking news report flashed across the screen.

According to the report, a large, pink, middle-aged rabbit was pillaging people's trashcans all across Elmore. Nine garage doors had fat rabbit shaped holes in their metal frames. The city dump had been broken into and all the garbage trucks tipped over after being searched from the insides. Elsewhere, trash flooded the neighborhood lawns and roads.

The news reporter stated, "The deranged man was exhausted and reeking fumes when police apprehended him. The only distinguishable words we heard out of him were 'Tickets, got to find those tickets'. Regardless of the insanity he spread, the man doesn't appear dangerous. Could this act be as a result of the country's economy? More on this tomorrow. And now, back to the match between Elmore and Seymour."

Gumball smirked and chuckled at the story. Nicole, who's face was set dead on the TV, didn't say anything, or move, or breath apparently, despite that it had been over five hours since the lottery.

* * *

><p>"Okay, Dad, listen," Gumball said on the next day. "Take these five dollars, get tickets with the numbers on <em>this<em> list, and _don't_ tell Mom about them _or_ let her see them. In fact, spray them with scent killer once you get home. Mom can smell trouble, apparently."

Before Richard could question his son's abrupt request, Gumball ran out the door and was on the school bus.

When Gumball arrived home, he waited for the evening news and called everyone to the living room.

"What is it, Gumball?" Nicole asked, surrounding the couch with the rest of her family.

"Just watch," Gumball pointed at the TV. "Dad, pull out those lottery tickets!"

"Okay, son," said Richard, feeling through his pockets.

"Lottery tickets?" Nicole asked incredulously. "Richard, why did you buy —"

"SHH!" Gumball hissed.

He let the lottery numbers and his family's startled faces envelop the living room as he sat smugly on the couch. After the numbers were called, his family looked like a group of ventriloquist dummies whose eyes had been carved much too wide.

"We . . . won . . . all five lotteries," Anais breathed, not believing her eyes.

Gumball counted down from five in his head, expecting to hear earth-shaking cheers. When he got to one, all he heard was more of the dumb-founded silence.

Then, his mother spoke in the same astonishment as did Anais, "This . . . is very bad . . . ."

Why it was very bad, Gumball didn't care to hear. He left for his room after Richard and Darwin started acting excited and Nicole and Anais hushed them, saying there was no way they could turn in all five tickets. A heated debate ensued through the rest of the evening, though it was nothing too terrible. On one side, it was a number of ridiculous ways to explain the win from his father and brother. On the other side, his mother and sister countered with reason after reason why showing the tickets would be a disastrous decision. Around 11:00, the two sides had worn each other out and decided to call it a night; they could worry more about it the next morning.

_Actually, they won't_, Gumball knew as a fact.

For the sake of amusement, Gumball tried again, this time with only _one_ lottery: The National Lottery, worth forty-nine million dollars, amounted after twelve straight days of no winners. The results were less stressful, but hardly less crazy.

After the numbers were called, Richard hopped so madly in excitement that he pounded a hole into the living room floor. Nicole dialed up the Rainbow Factory to tell her boss she quit her job and went on to call several different employees, cackling like an insane witch as she mocked those she hated and joked with those she liked. Anais busily wrote down numbers like an expert bookkeeper, sorting several different financial plans for how the family could spend the money while also pondering which colleges she could attend (Princeton and Stanford among them). Darwin happily listed off possibilities of what he could do with his share: buy his own synchronized swim team, buy a fishbowl made of pure crystal, buy Rachel her own beauty salon . . . .

Gumball stopped listening after two minutes of this. He had expected his family to be excited (for the few hours he knew it would last), but this seemed, somehow, worse than when his mother sat paralyzed on the couch.

Being a middleclass family, they have never been careless about the money that came in; they just couldn't afford to. They weren't rich, they couldn't buy the latest brands when they came out, but they always made due and maintained a reasonably good lifestyle. Winning the lottery seemed to change that image completely.

Richard was more careless than usual (and _that's_ saying something!).

Nicole's attitude, normally so serious yet reasonable, was frenzied to the point of crazy — throwing away her job as though it had been nothing more than a bright but now smudged candy wrapper.

Anais, whom Gumball knew was bound for college one day, acted as though she aged twenty years in five seconds. She may be a genius, but was still, nevertheless, a little girl who loved dolls, tea parties, and Daisy the Donkey, and the idea of her planning to leave for college when she hardly experienced her childhood felt somehow tragic.

Darwin, who'd rather sleep in his favorite fishbowl than in the bedroom's additional bunk, now, like Mom, planned on chucking something he once considered valuable, all because he now he had a whole load of money. Not that Gumball was offended by that. By all means, Darwin could buy whatever he wanted. The ongoing list of expensive things wasn't what bothered Gumball. Originally a pet fish, Darwin grew legs and became part of the family, happy to have people love him regardless of what he had been previously. It was one of the things Gumball loved most about his little brother: he knew how to appreciate what he had. But now, as he went on listing off item after item, Darwin seemed to be absorbed by the immaterial; somehow . . . already a different person.

Or . . . perhaps Gumball was over-thinking this.

_ For goodness sake! What do I expect? We won the lottery! Who wouldn't feel the potential? Who wouldn't feel the urge to buy everything they ever wanted? Who _wouldn't_ act like this?_

But still . . . for whatever reason, he worried for his family.

From the middle of the stairs, he glanced down and saw them group together.

"Come on, everyone!" Nicole shouted in a manner more wild than Gumball ever heard. "Let's ram each other all over the house and smile knowing that repairs and medical bills won't be a problem! **WHOOOOOOOOOO!**"

Astonished, Gumball took a seat on the steps and watched as his family commenced in their crazed behavior.

"Next time I think I'll go with the $25,000 lottery."

* * *

><p><strong>That's it for this chapter. Part II should be up shortly. All comments andor ideas for improvement are welcome. For example, do I describe too much? Do I TELL more than I SHOW?**


	12. Time in Pieces, PART II

**Sorry this chapter took so long. The truth is I wrote this one at the same time I wrote the last, but I had trouble getting it to work. Every time I read it, it found a way to deflate like a lead balloon. Not to mention, and I apologize for this, I was lazy. Writing can be daunting at times.**

**I'm going to be honest…not one of my better chapters, but I'll ultimately leave that up to the readers.**

**DISCLAIMER: ****I OWN NOTHING**** from **_**The Amazing World of Gumball**_**, including characters, places, or any other references that may appear in this story; not a thing.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

_Time in Pieces  
><em>_PART II_

Penny sat comfortably by the windows in Miss Simian's classroom, chatting with Carmen, Molly, and Teri. The four were discussing their cheer routine for the Pep Fest while also taking time to chat about the latest movies. This took place at 7:57.

At the back of the classroom near the wall, Jamie waved her fists and kicked the air in rough excitement, recounting to Anton and Tina the wrestling matches she watched over the weekend. Tina snickered in a low growl that seemed to vibrate along her huge scaly throat. While the two girls laughed, Anton caught the chance to speak and began to joke about how his father caught a layer of green mold on Sunday. These actions occurred between 7:53 and 7:55.

Tobias and Banana Joe were seated in their desks up front, practicing armpit farts that no one could hear. They've been at it since the bus picked them up at 7:10 that morning, and neither showed any signs of improving.

Gumball, meanwhile, sat quietly in his desk, following the wall clock's secondhand as it circled over the numbers. He didn't need to watch his classmates to know what they were doing. Their actions had not changed, nor had their words or their placement; the Loop had made sure of that. The Loop was making itself known more and more with each repeat, and Gumball was getting better at reading it — so much that he could see the events before they happened, and even know the duration between each action accordingly.

The minute hand drifted across the twelve, signaling 8:00, and, after twenty-two seconds precisely, Miss Simian threw open the door.

"Class!" she shrieked, stomping inside with the grade sheets griped in her hand. The students hurried to their assigned desks. "I've finished — "

"A bag of scones in the Teacher's Lounge?" Gumball asked loud enough for the whole class to hear. Miss Simian's grouchy expression melted into surprise, comparable to someone who had just been slapped. "Also, Miss Simian, get ready to breath a heartfelt sigh because your boyfriend is about to make the morning announcements. Oh, and one more thing," Gumball pointed his thumb over his right shoulder, "Molly has to use the bathroom."

All eyes in the class turned to Molly, who looked startled that this personal fact was known. Blushing, she stood up shyly from her desk and made her way to the door, giving Gumball a puzzled, annoyed glance right up to when she walked out.

BEEP.

The intercom sounded from above the chalkboard and the voice of Principal Brown said, "Good morning, Elmore Junior High . . ."

Miss Simian listened with awkward attention, glancing at Gumball several times whenever there came a pause in the announcements. After the intercom clicked, she turned back to shoot Gumball one more perplexing stare. Instead, her eyes widened at Gumball's empty desk. Then, to add to her mounting confusion, the grade sheets slid out from her hand.

"Hey!"

"Okay, class," said Gumball, reappearing beside his teacher. "Time to discuss our science reports."

"Give me those!" Miss Simian sneered through her teeth, her fists clenched.

Gumball ignored her while smirking. He lifted the first grade sheet off the stack and stepped over to Banana Joe.

"Hmm . . ." Gumball examined the paper, glancing over the comments in red ink. "C+. You and Tobias didn't do too bad, Joe. Just be sure to . . ." Gumball skimmed the writing on the page, "be sure to explain your project in fuller detail other than the colors the molds take. Although, to be honest," and Gumball stifled a laugh, "I don't see what's so scientific about **'The Progress of Mold Growth in Refrigerators'**. But hey, whatever floats, you know?"

Tobias and Banana Joe blushed, no doubt due to their project being addressed so openly.

Miss Simian, whom Gumball pretended not to notice, shook violently. Smoke was actually emanating off her hairy cheeks. Her eyes burned an even darker yellow, and the pupils became more slit-like than normal. Her tongue may have forked behind her gnashing teeth. "Give me those grades!"

Fists clenched, the teacher dropped to her knuckles, plunged forward, and crashed head-on into Gumball, knocking him to the floor and spilling the grade sheets everywhere. Half the class let out gasps. Facing straight up from floor, Gumball saw Joe, Carmen, and Carrie looking down at him.

His wrists pinned in Miss Simian's grip, Gumball mumbled, "Note to self: dodge to the right."

* * *

><p>"Give me those grades!" Miss Simian growled viciously.<p>

She plunged for Gumball, but this time he dodged. Miss Simian crashed into Masami's desk, breaking it and falling to the floor while Masami, who floated in the air unscathed, was taken aback along with the rest of the class.

"Next," said Gumball, ignoring Miss Simian's moans, "me and Darwin's grade on **'The Growth and Expansion of Seaweed'**. I got a C, mainly because Miss Simian hates me but couldn't ignore the work me and Darwin put into the project."

The whole class watched him, evidently surprised at his rashness.

"Sorry, Darwin," he said apologetically. "F for you."

"What!" Darwin swiped the sheet from his brother's hand and frantically skimmed it. "But-but-"

"Yes, I know," Gumball nodded caringly. "But, I'm afraid Miss Simian chose to take her blame out on you this time."

At the desk nearest the door, Gumball handed Alan his and Sucie's grade, titled **"The History and Many Uses of Helium"**. He and Sucie received a B, which, according to Miss Simian's notes, was mainly because neither of them had that much control over their hands while writing the report. Alan received a few extra points for not having any hands at all, though this remark made him look more insulted than happy.

Next, Gumball made his way toward the windows to hand Carmen hers and Bobert's grade on **"The Interaction and Explanation of Plants and Electricity."** Just as he was about to quote Miss Simian's notes aloud, Gumball heard bits of metal and wood scrape the ground. He turned towards Masami, still hovering over where her desk once stood. Miss Simian had pushed herself up off the floor, and her face was red like fire. Howling the terrible cry baboons shriek whenever they freak out, she sprung again for Gumball. This time she hit her target, thrusting him and herself towards the wall.

Gumball felt the glass shatter when his back struck it. Like beads of rain, fragments from the window flew around him as he and his teacher plunged one level to the parking lot below.

Groaning beneath Miss Simian's shaking and terrible sneer, his back turning black and blue from the fall, Gumball mumbled in pain. "Also note to self: duck when at Carmen's desk."

* * *

><p>"Carmen, Bobert, your report on . . . oh, excuse me." Noting his teacher's body language, Gumball dropped to his hands and knees the moment Miss Simian leapt to tackle him. She flew through the air like a missile and crashed into the window, shattering it and toppling outside, hitting the concrete below with a loud smack. Along with the moans and aches, the sound of twittering birds could also be heard.<p>

"As I was saying," Gumball resumed, ignoring the priceless look on all his classmates. "Carmen, Bobert, A on your Plants and Electricity project. Obviously a very good subject for a plant and machine. In fact, it was so well done, Miss Simian wrote that she barely understood any of it. So who knows how you two got this good grade."

From there, Gumball continued to perplex and embarrass his class by stating their grades out loud. Juke and Ocho's **"Creation and Results of 8-Bit Video Game Music"** apparently didn't strike Miss Simian as educational. They received a C-.

"Disappointing, I know," said Gumball. "Then again, any school report with 'video games' in the title is bound to be a turn-off for teachers."

Masami and Jamie got a B- on their **"Effects and Forces of the Weather"**. They lost a few points on parts in their essay due to the following comments:

_"…tough as wrestlers fighting a bulldozer…"_

_"…some clouds are just too wimpy…"_

and something about _"…not taking no crap from anyone"._

Masami shot an irritant glare towards Jamie who sank into her seat, her cheeks flushing as the class snorted around her.

The Eggheads did their report on **"Superior Minds and the Genes that Others Lack."** It was given a B- due to the annoyance Miss Simian felt while reading it.

"And if you two wonder why Miss Simian gave you that grade," said Gumball, "you're probably not as smart as you two think."

In Gumball's opinion, Carrie and Molly's **"The Extinction of Dinosaurs and their Influence on Today's World"** was worthy of something higher than a B. At the grade sheet's bottom, Miss Simian marked:

_ "Good sources; I know, I studied the dinosaurs myself back when they roamed the earth, which is also why I'm not giving you two an A, seeing as you didn't ask me to be a source."_

Gumball agreed that this was cruelly unfair (not to mention an outright lie), but moved on.

Penny and Teri chose to do **"Fungi and Blight: Germs and Plant Diseases Barely Noticed"**. Being quite familiar with germs and avoiding them, Teri knew several varieties and the damage they could inflict. As a peanut, Penny knew much about plant health and the means to maintain that health. They received a B+, the second highest grade behind Bobert and Carmen.

"In my opinion," said Gumball, his voice quite clear, "you two should've gotten an A. Teri, your notes on germs were quite extensive, and very well described. The illustrations are pretty nice, too, if not a little creepy. And Penny, you are, as everyone knows, simply perfect and deserve nothing less than an A. But, then again, Miss Simian is our teacher . . . ."

Gumball passed Penny as she blushed, though her expression told him it wasn't just from flattery (if at all).

Leslie and Idaho's **"Dirt and Nutrition: Ways and Benefits of Eating Soil"** was given a C-, and, at first, Gumball could hardly blame Miss Simian for the grade. This changed upon looking at the notes at the bottom, which he read aloud.

_ "Interesting and very accurate facts. I know, I've tried them all. But seriously, dirt? Ever hear of a grocery store?"_

"Well, excuse me!" said Leslie, crossing his leafy arms. "I don't eat dirt, either, but it still has benefits for _some_ people!"

"True, but not everyone," said Gumball, and he recalled the time his father tried a 'Dirt Diet' stated off a cooking show. He took it just a _bit_ too literally.

Tina and Hector's report on **"Sizes, Heights, and The Causes of Growth"** was a mix of info on how people grew, stopped growing, and the benefits of immense growth (benevolent acts from Hector, rough offence tactics from Tina). Miss Simian seemed to like Tina's part of the essay but thought Hector's too sweet, giving them a C in the end.

And lastly, Gumball came to Clayton, William, and Anton, all seated at the furthest, least noticed corner of the room. The three of them had been teamed up due to the uneven number of people in class. They wrote about **"Physical Appearances and People's Responses: Why Some Are Less Noticeable Than Others."** At the bottom of their grade sheets, a note read:

_ "You three must be experts at this. I almost missed your report when I went through the other students . . . kind of like your own lives, am I right? C+"_

"Oooooooooooh, _sting_!" Gumball responded, handing the three their grades.

Back at his desk, Gumball stretched out his arms and leaned back. Although he could practically feel them at the back of his head, he ignored the irritated, bewildered glances his classmates bore towards him.

After about five minutes of awkward silence, Miss Simian stumbled in through the door, her dress coated with powdered glass.

Her eyes crossed and legs shaking, she raised a finger and mumbled,

"Gumball . . . gato principopals . . . officiation for . . . explication and torchiere," then, letting off a huge sigh, she collapsed onto the classroom floor, her arms limp and mouth ajar, revealing several missing teeth.

* * *

><p>Much to Miss Simian's bitter disappointment, Gumball only received three weeks suspicion for his little stunt in class. After a few shouts from the principal, about a hundred hugs from Nicole, and the gratification that came with winning the $25,000 lottery, the day ended and started again.<p>

Gumball had to laugh. As serious as these punishments were, he couldn't keep a straight face as they were given. Why would he need to? The sideways 8 on his shoulder was practically an immunity charm; come what may, yet nothing new ever comes. More than once Miss Simian became red with anger because he looked so calm in the face of discipline. As an effect, the last few repeats had given Gumball the motivation to go the extreme, the CRAZY extreme.

On this repeat, decided to give Miss Simian a taste of her own medicine. After all that's happened in the Loop — her taunts, insults, sneers, her all-out cruelty — Gumball figured she was due for more than just a spoonful.

He started his payback in class after Principal Brown made the morning announcements.

"Hold it!" Gumball shouted as Miss Simian handed Banana Joe his grade. "Let me save you the trouble, Lucy."

She frowned with a cocked eyebrow. Gumball had never called her by her first name.

Standing up and clearing his throat, Gumball pointed his furry blue index finger at Banana Joe. "You and Tobias got a C+ for your project on mold and refrigerators, mainly for talking more about color than the process."

Gumball moved down to Darwin. "I got a C on me and Darwin's study of seaweed's growth and how it populates. Though, unfortunately, I forgot to put Darwin's name down on the written part which resulted in him getting an F."

"What!" Darwin yelped, his mouth hanging. He wasn't the only one. Miss Simian stared openmouthed at the papers in her hand, no doubt finding each of Gumball's statements correct.

He continued down the class rows, listing off each classmate's grade and also specific details about their projects. Miss Simian, still holding the undelivered grade sheets, stood by her small desk, dumbfounded as though someone had punched her in the face. For Gumball, her expression was simply delicious. A small humiliation, sure, but a sweet start of what was to come.

The class become even more perplexed when Gumball announced Miss Simian's pop quiz and not only guessed each answer correctly, but pointed out the person Miss Simian would've called upon. Gumball had heard the responses so many times he could do the entire quiz in under two minutes flat.

Though everyone's faces were hilarious, Gumball beamed at the plan he had in store for later — something that would make a trashed library or a jettisoned teacher look like spilt milk.

After eating a lunch of pasta, carrots, and fruit for what seemed like the 30th time, and swiping Carrie's slice of cake (much to her surprise), Gumball exited the cafeteria. He walked his way through a hall full of lockers and hid around a corner next to the library where his classmates walked in for study hall. Scarfing down the remainder of the chocolate mint cake, he sprinted towards the nurse's office, arriving in time as she stepped out for her lunch break. Gumball caught the door before it closed and sprinted inside. Wasting no time, he approached the desk and grabbed the phone off its charger.

_I might get expelled for this, but_, he pulled the corner of his sweater and grinned at his Loop mark,_ why should I care?_

* * *

><p>The school bell rang, signaling the start of the afternoon lessons. Walking down the hall with his classmates, Gumball lagged behind as they made their way into the classroom. Once they all entered, he remained outside the door and waited. The hallway grew quiet until eventually there were no footsteps to be heard. Gumball was alone, the only one not in a classroom, exactly as he planned.<p>

_It should be any time now_, he thought, looking down both halls.

Hearing the bell ring again, Gumball stepped forward and pushed the door open rather roughly, catching the whole class' attention.

"Well, well," said Miss Simian, her teeth set in a sinister grin. "Look who's late."

"Yeah," Gumball shrugged carelessly, "I guess I am."

Miss Simian clearly didn't approve of this attitude and formed what she probably thought was an intimidating pose. "Mind telling me why you didn't attend study hall?"

Gumball nodded, "Absolutely."

Five whole seconds passed, and when Gumball still hadn't answered, Miss Simian's anger burst through. "_Where were you_?"

Gumball smiled. Now was the time. "Oh, it wasn't anything really. I just made a quick phone call to the FBI and told them that one of their Top Most Wanted is in disguise here at school."

Silence hit the classroom like a bomb. Miss Simian appeared to choke on whatever comeback she had. The students turned from one to the next, confused whispers amassing quickly.

"You . . . you _what_!" Miss Simian cried.

Gumball smirked. "I _said_, I made a phone call to — "

CRASH.

The classroom's door burst off its hinges. It had been kicked open by a large, thick leather boot, belonging to a man armored in black, surrounded by a dozen similar others, all wielding assault rifles.

"FBI! EVERYONE FREEZE!" the man's voice exploded.

Miss Simian and the students shot their hands into the air, although remaining still proved difficult thanks to the tension that flooded around them. Gumball calmly raised his hands, fighting the laughter that threatened to burst out.

The men swarmed in. Their guns pointed in every direction but none stayed on the students for too long.

"What's the meaning of — OHF!"

Miss Simian was knocked off her feet and slammed to the floor by two large agents. After wrestling handcuffs onto her bone-thin wrists, they hauled her forcibly out of the room, down the hall, out the school, and then, after an iron door slammed, the sound of tires squealing away filled the halls of Elmore Junior High, now abuzz with frantic chatter.

Back in Miss Simian's classroom, Gumball turned his head and found himself center stage to everyone's attention.

"So," he said to his classmates and the agents who stayed behind, "anyone up for a game of 20 Questions?"

* * *

><p>The Pep Fest and the remainder of the school day were cancelled after Miss Simian's arrest. Word spread quickly around Elmore of the FBI's unexpected visit and so the Press got to work "pressing" their cameras and microphones in as many faces as they could. Due to the aggression the Feds and the Press had for one another, a few crowds started arguing and shoving each other, with the students and faculty caught in between.<p>

When Principal Brown finally cornered Gumball and dragged him to his office, he demanded why he had called the FBI. Gumball responded, lying, not worried at all,

"I remembered seeing a list of the FBI's Top Most Wanted and thought I saw one that looked like Miss Simian. I put the two and two together and thought there might've been a chance."

Vexed by Gumball's composed behavior, Principal Brown shouted, "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"Not really, but that's what I'm telling you, and that's that. Not much you can do, is there?"

"Now see here! You can't ju—"

The door opened without a knock.

The Lead Agent of the arrest walked in and asked to speak to the one who contacted them. With strict satisfaction, Principal Brown pointed his finger at Gumball, who remained as comfortable as when Miss Simian was dragged away.

Gumball recapped his made-up suspicions to the agent, who listened calmly and, once all was said, didn't appear the least bit infuriated.

"What do you mean 'it's reasonable'?" exclaimed Principal Brown after hearing the agent respond to Gumball's story. "What's reasonable about making up a criminal to get a teacher arrested?"

The Lead Agent looked stern. "What do you mean 'making up'? Take a good look at _this_."

He pulled a sheet of paper out from his suit jacket and handed it to the principal. If Brown's furry, baffled face hadn't been glued to what he saw, he might have caught Gumball's look of surprise that came as a reaction.

It was by sheer, stupid luck that there really WAS a criminal on the Top Most Wanted that resembled Miss Simian, but the one the FBI were looking for was clearly a male and looked as though he had been run over by a trunk.

The agent thanked Gumball for being vigilant, shook his hand, and walked out the door without another word. As Principal Brown spluttered with confused exasperation, Gumball stifled to laugh at how unbelievably lucky he was. It was the craziest thing he ever did in his life, and he got away with it!

* * *

><p>Back at home, the story of Miss Simian's arrest had been on the news all afternoon. Nicole greeted Gumball with over a dozen hugs when he walked in through the front door.<p>

"Oh, it's all right, my little detective," she beamed. "We'll put her behind bars for good someday."

The Wattersons ate dinner around the usual time while keeping the TV on in the living room. When Miss Simian's face appeared on the screen, all five jumped from their chairs and landed on the couch.

"Lucy Simian," spoke a reporter, holding a microphone to the baboon's infuriated face, "you have just been arrested, had a steel wool rag stuffed in your mouth, underwent the air freshener torture, and have been asked a lot of deep, personal questions. Now that it turns out you were mistaken for one of the Top Ten Most Wanted, what will happen next?"  
>Sneering, bitter than acid, she turned her head and looked right into the camera. Through clenched teeth she breathed, "I'm gonna kill Gumball Watterson!"<p>

Gasps could be heard in the background.

Miss Simian's eyes widened, realizing what she had said on live TV. "Wait! What I meant was — "

The cameras caught the action as she was wrestled to the ground and carted back into the armored car.

Before Gumball's jaw could drop, his mother jumped to her feet and scooped him into her arms.

"YES!" Nicole yelled victoriously, jumping up and down on the couch. "She's so fired! _You_ got her fired! I love you! I LOVE YOU!"

Warmth seemed to pass into Gumball through his mother's arms. It wasn't physical warmth but something different, something he hadn't felt for what seemed like years. But despite how wonderful this feeling was, deep down Gumball didn't enjoy this moment as much as his mother did. Tomorrow, the day would start over; this was a fact. Miss Simian will be back in school, hating him probably as much as she did right now. The Pep Fest will go on as planned and everyone will carry on with their schedules, all laid out like numbers on a clock. And last but not least, his family's attitudes will be renewed, back to being angry and disappointed . . . back to hating him . . . .

The angry, sad, frustrated faces of his parents and siblings hovered in his mind like wasps, buzzing violently, stinging him without mercy. Throughout these several dozen repeats, Gumball became almost accustomed to this behavior: the angry shouts, the disappointed frowns, the scowling faces in every nasty detail. It was all predictable, yet nevertheless painful, which was odd. Being so predictable, his family's attitudes shouldn't come as a surprise or leave that great an impression anymore. Regardless, there was still something about the fact that his family _would_ be angry with him that stuck like a thorn.

Shaking his head of this brief bother, Gumball cleared his thoughts. _Oh, what am I thinking about? So what if my family will be like that? That's just the way things are. Mom's hotheaded enough as it is and Anais is usually always crabby with me. It's a little sad Darwin has to be mad, too, but I can't do anything about that. And Dad? Come on. Give him a few hours and a snack and he'll forget anything eventually._

Gumball returned to the table, took his seat, and ate the rest of his mac and cheese. As he chewed the creamy noodles coated in bread crumbs, he turned his thoughts to all the hilarity he brought over these last few repeats. He was on a role! He can't stop now! There were so many others things he 'ought to try and do. If his family's upset, he'll just roll along and move towards another amusing conclusion.

The black mark on his shoulder was assurance that everything will be fine; a contract with no lasting punishments. This day _belonged_ to him. He would make sure he'd enjoy it; there was no question about it.

The only real question, the one Gumball wasn't thinking about, was how long would he be willing to go?

* * *

><p><strong>I originally had Gumball prank the Department of Homeland Security but the idea seemed too crazy…<strong>

**Ah, what the heck, I'll write it anyway! (but only a brief version)**

* * *

><p>"Oh, it's nothing really." Gumball rocked back and forth with his hands behind his back, the impression of a child who had a not-so-well kept secret. "I just made a quick phone call to the DHS and told them that a terrorist is in hiding at school."<p>

Silence hit the classroom like —

BOOM!

The door burst clean off the hinges and cracked into pieces on the floor.

"Department of Homeland Security! EVERYONE FREEZE!"

Agents rushed in, all wearing black body armor covered in blunt padding, a lot more sinister looking than the kind the FBI wore.

Everyone shot their arms into the air (Gumball raised his calmly). The terrified students shrank to the floor as the agents stalked over them, aiming machine guns at their heads.

His back turned on his classmates, Gumball crouched down, smiling. Miss Simian was heaved by two agents and slammed into the chalkboard. Next, one of the men pulled a black bag over her head and rammed the butt of his gun down hard. Before any of the students knew it, Miss Simian was nowhere to be seen.

Several minutes later, the atmosphere around Elmore Junior High quickly became like a war zone. Penny and the girls were huddled together, shaken by the DHS's arrival. Many of the boys sat in corners along the walls, eyes shooting in every direction as though an agent might fly through a window. Gumball was the only student still in a desk, calmly explaining his made-up suspicions to the agents.

_Hmm…_ he thought, _maybe I should've tried something less extreme_.

* * *

><p>"I made a quick phone call to the CDC. Someone in this room has contracted a new form of disease that eventually kills you. And yes," Gumball grinned maliciously, "it's contagious."<p>

The lie caught on like fire. The students looked frantically at one another, whispers amounting quickly. Teri, whom everyone knew had a great fear of diseases, grew hysterical at this made-up news, actually turning paler than her white jumper. Her paper thin legs shook beneath her desk and her frightened gaze shot in every direction as though she were trying to locate somewhere safe and sanitary to crawl in and hide.

The whispering died in an instant at the door being pushed open (not busted down, just shoved, VERY hard).

_And that makes three_, Gumball grinned.

This time, instead of masked agents reinforced by black suits and weapons, men and women dressed in chemical suits and gas masks ran in and seized Miss Simian by the arms.

"Oh, good heavens!" cried one of the men. "The virus has already spread! Look at all this fur and wrinkles!"  
>"It's reached the eyes, too!" a woman alerted, pointing at the teacher's head. "She's turning into a snake!"<p>

"Excuse me!" Miss Simian shouted. "If I may speak, what the heck is —"

"SEDATIVE!" the woman cried, and a large syringe was stabbed into Miss Simian's arm. Almost instantly, her posture seemed to melt, becoming limp, her face droopy.

"Rush her to the quarantine and then put her through the chemical wash! The rest of you stay here and run these kids down!"

Gumball's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

* * *

><p>"I made a quick phone call to the PLSS and told them you needed life support."<p>

The class door was shoved open.

"MAKE WAY!" yelled a man, joined by several others.

Miss Simian was strapped to a chair the group rolled in and had her head forced down by two tall doctors. Then a nurse took a needle connected to an I.V. and shoved it into her forearm. Miss Simian's scream was muffled by the large hand of one of the doctors.

"Wow," said the nurse, looking down at her new patient. "Are you really 300,000 years old?"

Miss Simian growled.

* * *

><p>"I made a quick phone call to the ISCC and told them you wanted to join."<p>

BAM!

The class door and a large chunk of wall was run over by a minuscule car. It was striped in bright red and yellow, its tires no bigger than dinner plates, and, most unusual of all, had an oversized windup key jutting from the trunk. The car doors popped open and out walked more than thirty circus clowns. They swarmed on Miss Simian like a hyperactive Hollywood makeup crew. When they scattered, Miss Simian was wearing size forty pants, a polka doted raincoat, white face paint, and hair spiked up with blue and green on each side.

"Howdy-do, Miss Sima-bon-bon," said a male clown whose voice was high on helium. "Welcome to the International Society of Circus Clowns!"

"Welcome!" the clowns cried jubilantly, all honking horns in Miss Simian's aggravated face.

"Cheers," said Gumball, leaning back in his desk, waving a cone of cotton candy.

* * *

><p>"I made a quick phone call to the DA and told them that a Dark invasion was afoot."<p>

A chainsaw ran through the class door, cutting it to pieces. Gumball hadn't expected this and shot around, sharing everyone's fright when the door fell apart. In the hallway stood a dozen men and women, holding hedge trimmers, potted plants, and clipboards.

"Somebody call about a bark invasion?" asked a muscular man wielding an axe.

Gumball frowned. "Oh, darn it! Not _that_ DA! I meant . . ." and he paused. "Oh, yeah . . . right. That would be copyright violation."

* * *

><p><strong>That's all for now. I'll do my best to make sure Chapter 13 doesn't take as long.<strong>

**All comments are welcome. If you don't mind me asking, though, do any of my sentences not read well? If there are any in my writing that you think can be written in a better way, please don't hesitate to point it out and state your suggestion.**


	13. The Knot

**I bet most of you are seated at your computers, thinking, "It's about darn time!" My deepest apologizes for this excruciating delay. This chapter couldn't seem to read well no matter how many times I revised it. Plus, to make matters worse, when it finally started to come together, the battery charger for my laptop finally went kapoot. My laptop's battery has a 20 second lifespan and must be plugged in at all times, so it was a while before I could get my computer turned on again.**

**Well…here's the next chapter. I hope it'll revive your interest in the story. Hopefully Ch. 14 won't be as difficult to produce. Hopefully….**

**DISCLAIMER: ****I OWN NOTHING**** from **_**The Amazing World of Gumball**_**, including characters, places, or any other references that may appear in this story; not a thing.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

_The Knot_

Doing as he intended with his unlimited time, Gumball spent the next few repeats goofing off wherever the chance came about.

Waking from his bunk at 6:20 (as always), Gumball walked down to the kitchen and performed, what he called, an "OPA Dance", which involved taking all his mother's china plates and smashing them against his head while humming "Hava Nagila". The sight of her porcelain shattering caused Nicole to faint and lay on the floor amongst the remains of her once precious family treasure. Seeing his mother lie motionless with a woozy expression wasn't something Gumball anticipated or laughed at, but he didn't worry since everything would be fine the next day. What was the harm, really? Besides his mother's reaction, a severely bruised forehead, and a few loose teeth, the dance had been fairly hilarious.

The school lunch period was another occasion Gumball took advantage of. The taste of pasta, carrots, fruit, and chocolate mint cake had become so boring that Gumball's mouth went BLAH at their mere placement on his tray. Happily, though, he had just the idea to get the boring mood out of the cafeteria, and quite literally off the tray.

"FOOD FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!" he bellowed, and hurled his lunch tray forward, covering Jamie, Bobert, and Tobias with food. Insanity followed suit. Everyone began tossing their lunches across the room, hitting laughing faces, smearing the walls with meat sauce, greasing the floor with fruit and milk, and splattering cake on the ceiling which gave the impression of mold growing above. Gumball received four weeks suspension for this act, and the elation that his punishment wouldn't stretch beyond a single day made him laugh until his heart felt ready to burst.

On the next repeat, Gumball had the nerve, or just the pure rashness, to go through with what he called "Kiss Day." The object was quite simple: every person he saw, whether a girl or boy, he would kiss, but **not** on the lips; even with the Loop, Gumball agreed that would be taking it a bit too far. Besides, that precious moment was reserved for Penny, no matter how long it would have to wait.

This idea was, for the most part, all right. Anais didn't seem to mind being pecked on the cheek; she even smiled. Darwin raised an eyebrow, but smiled also, attributing the kiss as brotherly love. Nicole thought it sweet and kissed him back, and then returned to being angry about her broken plate. Richard thought the kiss was because of his new tie and made plans to go out and purchase another one. Larry thought it a child's way to cure his pain after falling from his bike, though he couldn't help being a tad startled. The Robinsons Gumball chose to ignore, not only because neither exited their house that morning, but also because it seemed creepy to kiss people that old. He probably would've been smacked if he did anyway.

At school, things got a bit outrageous — _exactly_ what Gumball hoped for.

Most of the boys were grossed out by the kissing, not to mention frightened because Gumball chased and wrestled most of them down. The exceptions were Rocky, who was mostly confused, and Leslie, who, being fairly tolerant, let it pass as a prank.

The girls had mixed reactions. Penny, to Gumball's delight, blushed and smiled sweetly, but this lasted only until she watched him kiss Molly, Teri, and Carmen, one after the other (the last being a bit painful due to cactus stickers). For a brief moment, the four girls stood with their mouths ajar, blushed, and then growled at Gumball as he skipped — actually skipped — away down the hall to do more kissing. Sussie tasted salty and Masami was electric, quite literally when she shocked him with lightning. Rachel slapped him across the face, and Darwin, having watched his brother kiss his girlfriend, vowed never to speak to him again. Jamie punched him in the cheek, knocking out a tooth, and Tina whipped him with her tail, sending him flying across the hall into a group of lockers, resulting in a bruised back. At lunch, when Gumball kissed Carrie, she stopped dead in midair and her cheeks burned red. Her chocolate mint cake entirely forgotten, she floated away, saying she was no longer hungry.

Miss Simian gave him detention for the year. Mr. Small recommended him to rehab. And Principal Brown, fed up with the mounting complaints, finally suspended Gumball with the threat of expulsion should he ever kiss him again.

The next repeat, Gumball decided to have some more fun with the lottery. This time around, instead of winning the money himself, he gave the winning numbers to other people. In the morning hours before breakfast, he beamed with devious intent as he picked up the phone and dialed people he and his family knew: Miss Simian, Principal Brown, Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald, Rocky, his classmates' parents, the Rainbow Factory, on and on until he had to catch the school bus. He gave each caller all five main lottery numbers, using a deep and rather cheesy voice to conceal his identity.

When the evening came and the lottery was called, Gumball smiled maliciously, imagining the dozens of people hopping madly, excited for winning millions of dollars. As Gumball anticipated, the game between Elmore and Seymour was interrupted in the opening minutes when a news report flashed across the screen. An angry mob had broken out due to an apparent lottery scandal which resulted in more than forty-eight separate winners. Amongst the enfolding chaos laid out on camera, Gumball caught a glimpse of Miss Simian throttling an overjoyed Mr. Small whose face seemed to have taken on a smile of uncontrollable glee.

Laughs and giggles, snorts and roars of amusement emitted from Gumball like a geyser. Regardless that the Loop would reverse everything the next morning, it was awesome to live in those moments, just to see everyone's reactions.

The very next day, Gumball repeated his little prank, choosing different people to have the five winning numbers and throwing in a few of the original to watch different takes on the riot. And on the next repeat, he did it all again . . . and again . . . .

Things like this, Gumball knew, were always most funny the first time. The element of surprise hits you in just the right place and the laughs that escape you are enriching, sweet as dessert. The second time is the chance to appreciate the event as a whole. Since you know what to expect, you can take in the details you couldn't before when everything surprised you. The third, fourth, and fifth times, however . . .

And then it happened.

* * *

><p>Gumball couldn't understand why he hadn't realized it earlier, but that was mostly the point. It came after a relatively simple repeat. Nothing much had happened that day; in fact, everything, though he could hardly believe it, actually went normal. He caused no trouble in class, he attended the Pep Fest, he even tried to start that 800 word writing assignment he hadn't done any work on. Other than the unavoidable irritation felt by his family, and their annoyance with how he ignored them, everything went fine — simply fine. Nevertheless, Gumball went to bed that night with a kind of smooth, unconcerned flow in his blood which had lasted all day and continued on until his mind left for sleep.<p>

Upon waking the next morning to his buzzing alarm, Gumball, while under his bed sheets, took the time to think back on his past repeats. He had meant it to only be a brief contemplation. Instead, his breathing staled, and the slow feeling that had been in his blood before awakened as quickly as he did in that brief second.

He concentrated hard and tried to imagine his steps, trying to count each one there had been, but it was no use. After so many repeated days, after reliving the same Monday doing so many random, absurd things, Gumball realized then that he had lost count of how much time had passed.

For some reason, this discovery dawned on him like a dreaded phone call, one that whispered uncomfortable questions. How often had he woken at 6:20 in this bed? How many times had Anais walked in through that door and Darwin emerge from his bowl? And most dreaded to think of all, how much time, how many weeks had he lived in this one day?

Gumball peered around his bedroom as though he had never seen it plainly before. It had a stale feeling to it, like all the objects were glued down and couldn't budge, like they were part of some curious dollhouse.

The alarm clock went on buzzing, but Gumball didn't care to leave his bunk and shut it off. Its sound wasn't bothersome anymore. For all he cared it could've been a gust of wind or a squeaky floorboard, something which no one ever minded because there was nothing to be done about it.

Then, another familiar sound appeared from beyond the foot of his bunk. Gumball didn't have to look; he knew it was Anais who had walked in through the bedroom door. Seconds later, she stood at the side of the bunks where he looked down and saw her plainly. She was dressed in her blue pajamas, rubbing her little hand over her sleepy face, exactly as she did every repeat previously.

"You going to turn that off?" she asked with a yawn, motioning to the buzzing clock.

Gumball's ears twitched at hearing this question. How long had it been since the last time Anais spoke it? He did not know, but he knew the sentence was there, somewhere, plain and distinct in his memory as though it happened several times before instead of just two.

With a sigh, Gumball climbed down the bunk's ladder, turned off the alarm and left the bedroom without greeting Anais or Darwin as he rose out from his fishbowl. He entered the hall to walk the short distance to the bathroom, and as he did, a dull sensation, much like a numbing medicine, seemed to gurgle up from Gumball's stomach and surge into his head. It didn't hurt, but neither did it feel good; it was just . . . nothing. It was blank, uninteresting, and merely there.

Once in the bathroom, Gumball twisted the faucet's handles and cupped the rushing water into both hands. He sipped the cold liquid and swished it around. He spit out the water and cupped another handful, this time throwing it in his face. His mind feeling petrified, as though it were an unfeeling wad of thoughts, he stared in the mirror at his reflection and watched the water droplets drip off his whiskers and onto the white sink.

PLINK. Two seconds . . . PLINK.

Gumball tugged back on the collar of his nightshirt, and there, on his left shoulder, the sideways 8 laid clearly. The mark of the Loop was no blacker than it had been the days previously, yet it felt heavier somehow, as though the dark substance that resembled ink had dug its roots deeper into the skin beneath the blue fur.

Releasing his collar, Gumball shook his head, feeling quite stupid. The mark was no different, he knew that. Nevertheless, he couldn't deny that this morning did have a kind of drag to it, and not merely from his shoulder, but all around him.

Gumball walked back to his bedroom and entered just in time to hear Larry fall of his bike and hit the sidewalk. Darwin and Anais reacted to the loud sound by rushing to the window. They looked so surprised; they didn't know what had happened . . . . Nothing about the scene made Gumball stir. He didn't even feel sorry for Larry and the throbbing pain he must be feeling.

This numb, uncaring attitude did not lift when Gumball left his room. His mother's rant about her plate floated through his ears like a whisper and then vanished like smoke. His dad's new tie appeared to be little more than a piece of hanging red thread: in sight one moment and out of mind the next. The Daisy Flakes had as much taste as sugary sawdust. The sunshine and blue sky, once lovely and welcoming, were now just blue solidity and warm air, nothing else.

The school bus, always the same color, had the same people sitting in the same spots. The lessons were on the same stuff, and the stuff the same old stuff, and the cafeteria persisted in serving leftovers over and over.

The Pep Fest? What "Pep" was there? It was all a re-run: football players running and reading lines, cheerleaders hopping and flinging in all direction, counselors pulling numbers out of thin air, and students and faculty clapping their hands like a dusty, rusted machine.

After school, Gumball, his expression lifeless and listless, exited the school bus and stopped on the sidewalk outside his house. His brother and sister walked past him and he paid no attention to the worried looks they were giving him. The bus whirred, drove down the street, and turned a corner. Gumball stood rooted to the spot. He had no longing to go anywhere or do anything besides stare at the ground.

How many times had he heard that bus stop and go? How often had sunlight pass over his house and he thought it beautiful? Why . . . why was he thinking like this? Why did he feel so . . .

Gumball was being vague. He knew perfectly well why he felt as he did, yet it felt ridiculous.

He was bored.

It seemed such a poor excuse. He should've known the time would come when all his fun would run dry, as most entertaining things usually do. It happens all the time with movies, games, and hobbies; eventually, after so long and so many good memories, the thing becomes too familiar and the feeling starts to numb until it no longer thrives.

Gumball breathed a sigh which took him out of his silent trance. He was still outside on the sidewalk which shone gray in the mid-afternoon sunlight. He looked up and his house stood like an old blue plank jutting from the ground. Maybe, he thought, if he went and sat on his bunk for a while, he might think of something to do. Perhaps he could think up another scheme or joke to liven his energy back. But Gumball knew he wasn't in the mood for any of that. He just didn't have the spark — it had sizzled and dulled, and was nil.

Then, just as he took his first step forward, ready to accept the day's monotony and do nothing but lay and stare at his bedroom ceiling, Gumball heard a weak muttering to his right.

He turned towards the fence, expectant with what he thought would be there, but the shape of Mr. Robinson hanging over the wooden posts was absent. He heard it again. Confused, Gumball looked around left and right, then spotted the source of the sound. Margaret Robinson was staring at him from an open side window in her house, her gaze pungent, her mouth motioning grumbles he couldn't make out. She turned back into her home and disappeared from view, and Gumball's brain suddenly hatched an idea. It was small and it was blurred, but, nevertheless, it was something to go on.

He jogged down the sidewalk to the front of the Robinson's house, ran to the front door and ranged the doorbell. Gumball waited, his brain still working out what to do. For all he knew, his idea might not do anything other than delay his boredom, yet he figured it was a better plan than simply going to his bedroom without a thought in his head.

Muffled footsteps from behind the door's wood frame drew close. The doorknob turned and there, in the open doorway, stood Gaylord Robinson, staring down with his thick, square glasses.

"Well, well," he spoke in a voice neither happy nor angry, "if it isn't Father Time. I see your clock still isn't fixed."

"Mr. Robinson, can I please talk to you?" asked Gumball, staring up at his neighbor, almost begging.

"Sure, why not?" the old puppet shrugged.

Gumball blinked. He had not expected his neighbor to be this willing. "Really?"

"Of course. Nothing new has happened here for about two months. A chat will be welcome, even if that chat's from —"

"Two months?" Gumball gaped. "It's . . . it's been two _months_?"

Mr. Robinson stared at him. His face was stern. "It's finally caught up with you, hasn't it? Come on, we'll talk more on the couch."

He let Gumball in through the front door, closed it, and showed him inside. When Margaret saw who had entered, Mr. Robinson raised his hand before his wife could get out a word. "Nothing important, Margaret. The kid just wants to ask me some stupid thing. He'll be out of our hair before you know it."

Margaret looked annoyed and let off a mumble that Gumball couldn't decipher.

Slapping a hand to his bald head, Mr. Robinson growled, "Okay! Out of _your_ hair! Come on, kid, let's get this over with." As they pressed on, he grumbled, "Always with the hair and everything . . . ."

Gumball followed him into the living room. The two seated themselves on the pink striped couch and Gumball took the moment to gaze around the room. His memory prickled. The floral wallpaper, the spotless antiques, the house's very atmosphere were exactly as Gumball remembered. It all seemed to merge with the last time he was in this house, talking to Mr. Robinson and learning about the Loop. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought he were back in time. As he very well knew, though, time hadn't moved at all but simply stayed in the moment, _one_ moment at that.

Before Gumball could speak, Mr. Robinson, leaning on one of the couch's arms, beat him to the punch, "So, I've noticed you've been giving Lucy Simian some torment at school."

"What? Oh. Uh . . ." Gumball had forgotten that most of his antics with Miss Simian had attracted the news media, which spread through Elmore as a result. The fact that it was remembered, however, was the real surprise. "How do you —"

"What, did you forget, kid?" Mr. Robinson asked grumpily. "I'm as much trapped in the Loop as you are. I might not have the mark, but I still have my memory."

A moment passed in silence and Gumball felt his stomach tighten. He had totally forgotten about Mr. Robinson. Has he been going about the same agenda these last few months? Gumball hadn't seen him since they last talked by the fence, and he never noticed or bothered to learn if his neighbor did anything with this endless time.

"Anyway," the old puppet continued, "I heard about your tricks played on your teacher." Much to Gumball's surprise, Mr. Robinson showed a small, uncharacteristic grin. "Good pranks, kid. The circus clowns were the best. If only I could've been there. Your pranks were much better than any I ever pulled on her," and he broke into a light laugh, as though revisiting pleasant old memories.

"You pranked Miss Simian while you were in the Loop?"

"Of course I did," he said, regaining control of his laugh. "I knew I wouldn't get many other chances, so I took advantage of it when I could. Serves the old monkey right. Margaret never liked her much, either."

As his neighbor began to chuckle once more, Gumball, for the brief moment, forgot why he came here and was truly relaxed. It felt surprisingly good to chat with someone instead of just going about the usual repetitions. It was something he hadn't planned, something new, and the freshness of it brought relief to Gumball's bland state of being.

Seriousness returned with Mr. Robinson's frown. "Now," he said, crossing his arms. "What do you want?"

Gumball opened his mouth, but no words came. What _did_ he want to ask? What had his brain dug up to make him come knocking? He couldn't have forgotten already. How long had it been since he thought it, one minute?

His eyes widened, not from remembering, but from the few seconds when he stood outside the front door after it opened.

"Has . . . has it really been two months, Mr. Robinson?"

His neighbor stared with an indifferent face. He shrugged his shoulders. "About that much. Probably a little longer. I've stopped counting a while back now, and your startled face back on the doormat says you have, too."

"Y…yeah," said Gumball uneasily. "I never really started, actually."

The old man blinked uninterestedly. "So? What do you want?"

Gumball paused, not really knowing himself. Not wanting to keep Mr. Robinson glued in silence for fear that he might be yelled at, Gumball said what he felt was the center of his reason for coming, "I want to try and get out of the Loop."

Mr. Robinson stared, still leaning on the couch's arm. "Really?"

"Yeah . . . ?" Gumball raised an eyebrow at the question.

"Hmm . . . I would've thought you'd want to spend more time goofing off. You sure seemed like you were on quite the streak."

"I was . . . I did like spending my time like that," said Gumball. "But I just don't feel up to it anymore. All those things…everything's starting to feel —"

"Bland? Tasteless? Boring?"

". . . Yeah . . . ."

Mr. Robinson straightened himself up and placed his hands on his lap. "Kid," he said, "you have reached what I like to call 'the Knot' in the Loop."

He paused, apparently to let Gumball's confused expression sink in before continuing. "You're at that point in the Loop where the whole of one day is no longer enough, regardless of the freedom you have. Ultimately, all that freedom doesn't mean very much if you can't have it beyond twenty-four measly hours. So, now your time is little more than being in one place where nothing new happens. It's kind of like being at a party and you're tied to the floor by a long rope, held together by a huge, solid knot. Each time to try to leave, it holds you to the spot. And the more your try making something new of the same-old same-old, the more bored and tired you get."

Gumball sat listening intently. The illustrative idea of the Knot felt more physical at that moment than it had when he was outside, staring vaguely at nothing. His imagination, however, spun a different picture than Mr. Robinson's idea of being snared in a never-ending party. He thought of the mark on his shoulder and imagined he was trapped in the middle, caught in the point where the lines intersected. It gave a sensation that felt almost stifling, like the Knot was cutting off blood to different parts of his body, weakening him ever so much. Rubbing his hand over his shoulder, Gumball swallowed, the mark suddenly feeling more heavy than it did that morning.

Mr. Robinson continued, "I don't know if this will mean anything to you, kid, but when I was in the Loop, I got caught in the Knot, too. It's weird . . . I actually remember _it_ better than all the fun I had, but I guess that's mostly because I started spending more time not doing anything."

"What was it like?" Gumball asked, though he felt he already knew.

Mr. Robinson scoffed. "It wasn't fun, but it wasn't dreadful, either. It wasn't anything, really. I was just stuck in one place, was all. I could move freely, I could talk and interact with different people. If I wanted to I could leave Elmore and go to other places I never would've thought of going. But, no matter what I did or how far I traveled to get away, I always wound up in the same bedroom with the same surroundings. It was like living in the backdrop for a stage play.

"I was still ignorant of my temper problem, still angry about everything, and so I got more frustrated with each repeat. Nothing felt fresh anymore. Everything around me became little more than something to look at, which . . . was sad . . .," and Mr. Robinson's gaze softened. He peered at the wall in front, though there was nothing visibly appealing to gaze at. He looked positively depressed. "The fact that you can look at something beautiful, something that makes your life what it is, whatever it is — your house, your town, those closest to you — the fact that you can have all that in your life and not feel anything . . . to stop feeling anything . . . ."

The old man fell silent, but words no longer seemed necessary. He looked as though he were trapped in a dark, thrashing storm, all alone. It was a side to his neighbor Gumball had never witnessed, and he felt quite sympathetic for him.

Shaking his head of whatever it was he felt, Mr. Robinson steadied himself and readjusted his glasses, pressing them back onto his face. "Sorry about that. Now, as for _you_, I do hope you have some idea of what to do next."

Gumball grimaced. "No . . . not a clue. I just don't understand what might be keeping me here."

"Do you remember what I told you, about why time loops happen?"

"I think so . . ." Gumball hesitated and tried to grasp the wording from that far off conversation. "Uh . . . something about fixing something I might have done wrong and . . . uh . . ." Gumball poked at the wrinkles in his brain, digging for the answer he knew must be there.

"Second . . . I missed something?"

"You've forgotten something."

"Forgotten what?"

"No, no!" Mr. Robinson shook his head. "The second main reason for being in a time loop is that you've forgotten something important, possibly something you need to learn, or perhaps relearn. So . . . anything you've forgotten?"

"Well . . . " Gumball smiled sheepishly, "If I _did_ know I probably wouldn't have forgotten."

He left off a light chuckle, but stopped as Mr. Robinson didn't join in, his expression grim.

"All right, never mind," the old puppet said. "Anything you did wrong? Besides all the recent pranks and schemes you pulled, I mean. We know none of that's important because that all happened _inside_ the Loop. Anything before you got stuck here, before things started repeating themselves?"

Gumball leaned forward on the couch and sighed. "I thought we talked about that last time. I tried fixing all the stuff I messed up: Mom's plate, Darwin's grade, Dad's tie, the Pep Fest. None of it mattered, though."

"That might not be totally true."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they might not be the reason you're stuck in the Loop, but those things might be important in their own sense. In other words, they might help make your day better or may assist you in getting to where you need to be. If I were you, I'd still try to fix them.

"It sounds to me, kid, that there's something you've forgotten. This thing, whether it's a mistake you made or something you've overlooked, is the key you're looking for."

"Uh, yeah," Gumball sat up straight again, looking a tad annoyed. "That's pretty obvious."

"Not to _you_, it isn't" Mr. Robinson frowned. "Since you don't know what's keeping you here in this never-ending Monday, maybe you should try asking the people around you to see if _they_ know what it might be. Perhaps something they say will trigger something."

Gumball's eyebrows lowered. "Wait a minute, how will that work? Nobody will remember anything once the day ends. To them it will just be a regular Monday."

"Well, who knows?" Mr. Robinson shrugged. "Like I said, maybe it's _not_ something that happened on this day. Maybe it's something that happened _before_ the Loop began."

There was a pause, and Mr. Robinson's eyes moved to the side to look back in the direction towards the kitchen. He let off a low grumble, then shouted, "Okay, Margaret! I'm coming! Keep your wig on!"

Gumball felt perplexed. "I didn't hear anything."

"Like I told you before, hardly anyone does. You're going to have to leave now. I gotta help prepare and then eat chicken alfredo for the 300th time. _You_, on the other hand, have some researching to do. Do me a favor and actually _try_ to get out of this Loop. I'm losing the feel in my tongue from all the alfredo sauce. Now . . . GO AWAAAAAAY!"

Gumball didn't scurry this time. Sighing, he calmly got to his feet and headed towards the door, not feeling totally satisfied with the discussion. As he approached the exit, he thought Mr. Robinson would yell again, telling him to hurry up.

"Hey, kid."

Gumball stopped and turned cautiously, but his neighbor did not shout. Mr. Robinson looked, if anyone could believe it, steady and understanding.

He sighed before continuing. "Kid . . . just try your best. I'm sure whatever's keeping you here — keeping _us_ here — isn't really that complicated. It's kind of funny," and he managed what might've been a smile. "Something like the Loop, which hardly anyone really understands, happens quite often for the simplest reasons. I mean, for me it was a simple matter of learning to calm down."

The old man shook his head in a sense that showed both amusement and weariness. Pushing his glasses back against his face, he stood up from the couch. "Try your best, kid, but don't push yourself too hard."

Gumball smiled gently. "Thanks, Mr. Robinson," and as he approached the door, Gumball felt immensely grateful for his decision to come knocking, regardless that he still didn't know how he acquired the idea; it didn't really matter. The little chat with his neighbor might not have been as illuminating as he wished, but the advice given was satisfactory enough. Plus, it felt good to talk to someone who knew what he was going through, even if that person was generally crabby half the time.

* * *

><p>Out again on the sidewalk, warm from the sunlight of the approaching evening, Gumball had the strange sensation that he was on a lost boat, drifting through fog as thick as the sea. Try as he might, he couldn't get closer to the lighthouse, a barely visible sliver in the dense gray vastness.<p>

But . . . at least there _was_ a lighthouse, a way for him to follow. The lighthouse . . . the key to untangling the Knot . . . it must be out there somewhere. He just needs to search for the right flow and make his way towards it.

Gumball stood in front of his house, the place where this day would end and begin again. Taking a step forward, he recalled what he and Mr. Robinson talked about and agreed with his neighbor. If he was going to escape from the Loop, he had to start hunting for information and pray that an answer lay somewhere amongst the day's infinitely stretched timeline. At the front door, Gumball grimaced at the task ahead. For all he knew, it would be like searching for a speck of gold in an overly-large hourglass. Nevertheless, he knew he must try, else tomorrow will remain forever beyond reach and he would be doomed to eternal recurrence.

He turned the doorknob, pushed the door open, and stepped inside the living room. The place was shaded, but well lit by the warm sun pouring in through the windows. He walked over to the couch where most of the sunlight fell and sat down next to his little sister, watching TV with their goldfish brother.

"Ah…" Anais sighed in relaxation, her hands resting behind her head. "The Science Channel."

On the TV, Gumball watched a number of stars and planets fly by. The Earth appeared, rotating like a blue and green bubble in black liquid, and over it, the show's title emerged:

**_Science Time_**

Beneath it, in small parenthesis, a line of text read:

**_Advanced science dumbed down for those in the room who don't understand science while also smart enough for those who do_.**

This writing, though insulting yet amusing, made Gumball's eye's widen, and he felt, suddenly, very excited. Realization arrived like a heavenly chorus. The first potential clue towards the allusive lighthouse, the first tiny thread of slack in the Loop's rigid Knot, was sitting right there in the room with him!

His little sister sat with her cute yet smart attentiveness, smiling as the show began its intelligent intro. Gumball's mind, however, was too busy to listen. Getting off the couch on what seemed like impulse, he started up the stairs but didn't take his eyes off the couch or the pink ears visible just above the top.

Gumball closed the door to his mostly shaded bedroom and, pacing around the space between his bed and his alarm, began to brainstorm.

He may have just found the first place to start asking questions.

* * *

><p><strong>That's chapter 13. Once again, my fullest apologizes.<strong>

**All comments or advice, positive or negative, are welcome. **


	14. Asking Around, PART I

**Once again (and I'm beginning to lose track of how many times I've said this), I am deeply sorry for the horrendous, migraine-inducing delay. Sometimes it's just so hard to actually sit down and write; trust me, it can be just as challenging and as intimidating as writing a story. Plus I needed to plan for the chapters ahead, and I'm pretty happy that I did…. But hopefully this chapter will have been worth the wait; I'll leave THAT decision to you, my readers. You have all waited long enough.**

**DISCLAIMER: ****I OWN NOTHING**** from **_**The Amazing World of Gumball**_**, including characters, places, or any other references that may appear in this story; not a thing.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

_Asking Around ~~ PART I_

It was all planned out. The quiet evening had given Gumball the time he needed to think it all through — the person he would talk to, the time he would do it, and the sort of questions he would ask — so that by the time he crawled under his bunk's covers, he had full confidence that he was ready, or at least as ready as he could be. Surely, he thought, he'll get somewhere tomorrow, have some sort of lead by next sundown. In the meantime, though, he would allow his mind to rest for the night and happily fall asleep, all the while trying to ignore the black mark that seemingly weighed on his shoulder. Or was it just his imagination that caused the sense, being affected by the Loop?

* * *

><p>The next Monday morning came and dragged like waiting in line for an amusement park ride a mile away. Most if not all of Gumball's attention laid glued on the clocks in his house and the one in Miss Simian's classroom. Never had the second hands ticked that loudly to his blue cat ears — so deep, like hard sticks tapping on his temples. Even his alarm clock, which went silent after he struck it, had a kind of pull over him, like a bug drifting to a zapper, its glowing green numbers mesmerizing and imprinted on his eyes. The only other thing Gumball gave notice to, when not focusing in and out on the time-tellers, were the shadows of everything around him, stretching and shifting as time rolled closer to Noon.<p>

The Loop mark on his shoulder was even more noticeable, like a firm hand holding him to the spot. The feeling of it, however, real or simply imaginary, became less cumbersome as the day went on. This was good, since there was so much on Gumball's mind as it were; he didn't wish for any needless distractions.

Meanwhile, there were no new surprises to be had. Nobody said anything Gumball didn't already know they would say and nobody did anything to deviate from the day's already predetermined agenda. It was all there, all laid out, and all the better, because with everything so tightly wound, Gumball had no doubts the day would play out to where he planned on being this afternoon.

Until then, there was nothing for him to do except sit at his desk and pretend not to be bored. Every now and then, however, fleeting moments would pass when Gumball would reflect on his situation.

The Loop seemed to be affecting more than just his memory now. Among things like having no enthusiasm for the Pep Fest and growing more deadpanned with his family's crabby behavior, Gumball discovered with each repeat that he had less and less an appetite. His stomach felt strangely indifferent, full almost, even though all he had to eat that morning was a single slice of buttered toast. When he swallowed, the bread didn't feel like it hit his stomach but merely disappeared, causing a sensation that was there for a moment and then gone like it never came, leaving him to feel as he did before eating and before he had went to bed the Monday previous.

This sensation continued on throughout the morning, so Gumball didn't take any lunch this repeat except for an orange-flavored juice box. The other food in the cafeteria, the smells and textures practically committed to memory, could've been made of sand for all he knew.

"What's wrong, Gumball?" Rocky asked from behind the steam tables, dressed in his apron and holding a ladle. "The food smell funny?"

"No, Rocky," said Gumball. "I'm just not hungry. I guess I forgot to bring an appetite."

"Not surprising," came a harsh voice from Gumball's side. "You're forgetting a lot of important things lately."

Darwin, furious at his accidental exclusion in their science project, stomped off as soon as Rocky handed him his lunch and went to sit with Rachel, where he slowly calmed down as he and his girlfriend started chatting. This didn't bother Gumball in the slightest. Much like the cafeteria's food, Darwin's bickering now felt rather insignificant, like a little pesky fly that wouldn't go away; annoying, but nothing worth fussing over…at least not anymore.

Gumball sat alone at his and Darwin's usual table and sipped his juice through a bendy straw. It wasn't bad; it was something new and mildly interesting, no matter how simple. As he slowly sipped, he spent his time looking at the empty spot two tables down, which he knew would be occupied in a quarter of an hour.

Draining the last drop of juice, Gumball got up from his seat and tossed the empty juice box into a trash bin. The bell for Study Hall would ring in about ten minutes and with nothing else to do until the next class came to eat, he chose to leave early.

He pushed open one of the cafeteria doors and, almost on instinct, looked back to see Carrie floating around with her slice of chocolate mint cake, glancing around the room for someone she could not find. Gumball exited before she could look twice.

The school hallways were empty except for a few random older students preparing for the next part in their school day. When Gumball reached the library, he entered but didn't go very far in. From where he stood beside the door leading in and out of the book-filled room, he could see Molly, Teri, and Masami's art project of China's Great Wall sitting on top a bookshelf, as well as the wooden table where they would sit at to work on it. Just one table down was the one Leslie and Carmen will sit at and stack a pile of books to do research on their history paper. Up ahead of these tables was the row of computers that Bobert will sit at and make digital blotches on the monitor, which will include numbers and letters, pluses and minus, and tinier numbers placed over crooked lines that went round and round, back and forth, and loopity-doopity-doo.

Though they were not yet there, Gumball could almost see the transparent forms of his classmates moving about like ghosts, imprints from his memory and his time while in Study Hall, all from this one everlasting Monday.

Finally, Gumball's sight fell to the carpeted floor of that area. What he saw caused him to freeze and, strangely, smile a little. The hardcover book that had caused so much trouble for him laid on its front, motionless, just waiting for someone to slip on it. Several seconds passed and Gumball didn't break his sight with the object. Then he closed his eyes.

The book, though utterly incapable, seemed to let off a gasp . . . in _Gumball's_ voice. Next, there was a crackle of electricity. Then, as quickly as that sound went, there came a light explosion, then a crash and breaking, a scratching on wood, and finally another crash and the toppling sound of several large stacked things. Then quiet . . . dead quiet.

Shaking his head, Gumball opened his startled eyes and looked in every direction. There were no signs of any crashes or explosions, nothing knocked over or upturned. The library was in exactly the same state as it had been when he shut his eyes.

Gumball turned back to the lifeless book, still resting where it had been dropped. In an instant, he understood. Even after endless repeats of avoiding the book, it never shied from reminding him — the moments of that first bad day. They remained dormant, like potentially dangerous animals, asleep less they be disturbed by one wrong decision, like a carton of milk being taken into the library by a careless cat.

There was no need to worry, though. Gumball wasn't going to go near the book and he didn't even bring any milk to drink, so the first day of the Loop couldn't happen; it won't. But, then . . . it _has_ happened. It _had_ occurred. This Monday, though different for Gumball, was the same in every other respect. Was the incident that happened in this library neither here nor there? A mere possible reality being denied because Gumball knew how to avoid it?

Pressing his fingers to his head, Gumball frowned and grumbled. This kind of thinking wasn't getting him anywhere. That first day was in the past, _far_ away in the past, and that's where he planned it on staying. What mattered now was today, as in _today_ right now.

A minute later or so, the bell rang, snapping Gumball out of his thoughts just as the library door opened. Moment by moment, Gumball's classmates entered and went to their predestined study areas. Gumball stood where he was, watching with mild interest, amused at how they resumed their work, repeating the same steps they had already trekked a thousand times, never getting any closer to completing their work . . . .

The bell rang again and Gumball turned around to face the door. It was time for him to get started on his _own_ personal work.

Pushing the door open, he moved into the florescent-lit hall and started back the way he had come. After turning by the first corner of lockers, Gumball stopped abruptly. He had almost ran into, or rather _though_, Carrie.

"Oh, hi, Gumball," said the ghost girl, sounding a little surprised to see him. "Are you okay? I couldn't find you at lunch."

"Huh? Oh, yeah," said Gumball quickly. He didn't want to waste too much time talking. "I didn't feel all that hungry, so I left early."

"Sorry to hear that," said Carrie, her face still not fading from its concern. "Is something bothering you?"

"No, I'm good." Gumball knew he wasn't being totally honest, but other than his drive to know more about the Loop, he was as fine as he dared call himself so. "Please excuse me, Carrie, but there's someplace I need to be." He walked away, leaving Carrie to stare after him.

The cafeteria doors were closed when Gumball arrived there. Stepping up close, he stood on tiptoe to peer through one of the two square windows. Inside, directly across the cafeteria, exactly as he expected, was Anais, standing on her tiptoes, trying to place her lunch tray onto the table's high surface.

"And here comes Rocky," Gumball muttered to himself, and he watched the friendly school worker come and help Anais by lifting the tray high enough to reach the table. Anais mouthed what appeared to be a thank-you and Rocky gave her a wave before heading back to serve food to the next group of students.

Watching this simple moment replay as it did before brought back the terrible memory of when Gumball humiliated his sister. The blue cat lowered his glance from the window and grimaced as the ugly pictures popped into his head: how he dumped food all over Anais' dress, the cake he shoved in her face, the milk he poured over her head as he taunted her. All of those cruel things, however, paled at seeing her cry or the anguish on her face as she ran from the cafeteria. And there Gumball stood at the door, right where it all started, and he couldn't ignore his shame as it tensed like a vise around his heart.

_ No,_" he shook his head, pushing at the guilt,_ "don't think that_. _That was stupid, _you_ were stupid. But it's in the past now, forgotten to her, forgotten to everyone._ _You're not here for revenge. You're here for help._

Gumball closed his eyes and took a deep breath to relive his negative feelings. Though he wouldn't forget about them, he knew he had to put these thoughts aside and focus on the more important matter.

Concentrating, he drew up the plan he brainstormed the night before. It wasn't hard to do since he had been thinking about it all day. Once the conversation started, Gumball knew he would have to act mostly with the moment, talking in the best sense he could while choosing his responses carefully to fit the questions he would be asked. This, he knew, could go fine or could very well turn into a washout, and sadly, given that his luck half the time was like walking on thin ice, there was a big chance his planned conversation would only last for so long. Regardless, however, it didn't worry him. If he failed, he could just try again tomorrow. The most he had to worry about was if Anais refused to talk to him.

Unavoidable though it was, Anais had been angry with him this morning, just as she had been ever since the Loop started.

Gumball rubbed his shoulder where the black 8-shaped mark laid, thinking uncomfortably of the whole bad ordeal.

First, he would ignore his sister's warning. Then his Mom would yell at him and Anais would glare in disappointment, both from her highchair and while they waited for the bus on the sidewalk. Finally, Anais would ignore him in bitter silence for the rest of the day, putting up with him only because they both live in the same house.

To compensate for this potential liability, Gumball spent the morning of this repeat giving Anais the utmost attention and acting as kind and brotherly to her as possible. Granted, he didn't tell Mom the truth about her china plate and for that Anais was clearly annoyed, but that was of no concern. Gumball knew the plate wasn't the cause of the Loop, so why bother with it?

Exhaling one final determined breath, Gumball brought his thoughts back to the present, pushed open the double doors, and entered the cafeteria. The familiar scents of pasta, fruit, and chocolate mint cake flitted past his nose. He ignored them, as though they were simply part of the air. None of the older students seemed to notice the blue cat, and even if they did, Gumball didn't care, not looking at any of them. For the first time in so long, he was totally focused; all that mattered was the little pink bunny directly in front of him.

He watched Anais take her first bite from the bowl of pasta. She closed her eyes to enjoy the smooth noodles and the evenly spiced meat sauce. Because of this she hadn't noticed her brother, even when he stopped right at the table's edge.

Gumball smirked at seeing his litter sister beam as she chewed. Sometimes he forgot just how cute she is. _She looks like she's in a good mood. That's a good sign. Okay, here I go . . ._

"Anais?" Gumball said softly.

The pink bunny opened her eyes and abruptly stopped chewing. Her cheerful demeanor seemed to dim a little at her brother's presence, but she didn't look angry. Swallowing her food, she said in simple surprise, "Gumball? What are you doing here?"

This was it, the first question. "Hey, sis. Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you had a couple minutes to talk?"

"Don't you have to be in Study Hall right now?"

"Yeah, but this is a bit more important."

"I'm eating right now. Can't it wait until we get home?"

"It could, but I prefer to do it now rather than later. Please? I really need your help."

At this, Anais glared a little. "Oh, you do, do you? You didn't seem to want my help this morning."

Gumball wasn't the least bit intimidated. He had prepared for this. Sighing, he lowered his head and spoke gently.

"Yeah, I know, and I'm really sorry about that. You were right, sis. I should've listened to you." He raised his gaze, and saw his sister look slightly surprised. "If it'll make you feel better, I'll apologize to Mom when we get home," and Gumball was totally honest about this, despite what little good he knew it would do.

"She's already pretty mad at you, Gumball," said Anais, her voice firm but not harsh. "I'm afraid it might be a little late to make amends. You know how touchy Mom can be sometimes."

"Oh, I definitely know that," replied Gumball, "and you're probably right. But I'm not here to talk about Mom's plate. I'm having trouble with something else and I don't know who else to talk to. Please, Anais, I _really_ need help. I'll listen to you this time, I promise."

Anais stared at him. She looked as though she were trying to read something that had been stamped into his forehead but was too small to read clearly. "What exactly do you need help with?"

And here, Gumball knew he would have to lie, all to make it sound less crazy than it really was. "It's something to do with a bit of science we watched on a video in class."

He said it as calmly as he could and prayed the lie didn't sound too hollow. To his delight, Anais' stare became less doubtful. "Science? What kind of science?"

"That's what I want to talk to you about. It's very complicated stuff."

"If you're having trouble why don't you just ask Miss Simian?"

"She refused to explain it to me. She actually looked pretty happy that I didn't understand it."

"Hmm . . . yeah," Anais agreed with a nod, "that _does_ sound like something she'd do. But why not just ask someone else in your class? Bobert and Carmen are both good at science."

"They're busy at the moment, and besides," Gumball paused, hoping this next part wouldn't come off as too cheesy, "you're the smartest person I know when it comes to science. I mean, heck, you're in Junior High and only four years old!"

Anais neither smiled nor frowned at this compliment. She blinked impassively and then gave a short sigh. "Okay, okay . . . I'll do my best to help you, but only because I can see you clearly need it."

Gumball beamed. "Oh, thank you, sis!" Elated, he rushed around the table and jumped to take a seat on the bench, landing beside the stack of books his sister used to boost up to the table, matching each other's eyelevel.

"You don't mind if I eat while you talk, do you?" asked Anais.

"No, go ahead," said Gumball, encouraging her. Though Anais showed none of her irritation from this morning, Gumball wanted to keep his sister on as good spirits as possible, and thus decided it would be best not to rush her, otherwise he feared she would refuse to help.

Anais speared her fork through a few diced carrots, bit down, and waved her pink index finger in a circle, signaling Gumball to start talking.

"Okay, here's the video. It started by talking about time, you know, like how old the universe is and gave us massive numbers about how much time passed to get to where we are now."

Gumball had planned it all last night. Knowing full well that Anais wouldn't take him seriously if he told the truth, he decided to invent an explanation around something she took to heart: science. While not necessarily the Loop, his plan did revolve around it; more or less, it was simply a different angle on the matter.

"Then," he added, "the video started talking about time itself."

Anais, swallowing a bite of her chocolate mint cake, raised an eyebrow. "Chronobiology? Is that what you're talking about?"

"Uh . . . not really," said Gumball, who had no idea what kind of study chronobiology entailed. "What confused me is when it tried to explain how time moved. You know, how it proceeds from one day to the next."

Anais was paying close attention, though she still looked puzzled. "So . . . it's the movement of time and how its measured out that's confusing you?"

"Mostly, yeah. But mainly, it's the course of 24 hours I don't get."

Gumball watched Anais, who was clearly processing the information. He could've sworn a part of her was still irritated with him, but whether or not she was, she did look sincerely intrigued by this scientific complexity. At least, Gumball thought as much; it was hard to tell what she was thinking as she chewed her food. Nevertheless, he felt he was doing well so far. At least Anais was listening.

"Anyway," Gumball went on, "there came one point in the video that kind of caught my interest."

At this, Anais' eyebrows lowered. She looked skeptical. "_You_ got interested in something to do with science?"

"I said it _kind of_ caught my interest, I didn't say I became engulfed with it," though Gumball might've argued otherwise if he were telling the whole truth. "Now here's the tricky part: the video started suggesting how time, in some ways, may not actually be moving."

"That's impossible," Anais stated boldly, swallowing some mixed fruit. "All things in the universe are in constant motion. I would explain it in physics terms, but you'd probably fall asleep on the floor if I did."

Gumball laughed lightly, admiring his sister's wit. "Yeah, I probably would. Anyway, the video went on about things like cause and effect and particle mumbo-jumbo," he said, going over the lines he thought up on the last repeat, "and then it got to a part that stood out."

"And that was?"

"The possibility that time from one point in our lives is actually repeating."

Anais paused for a moment, then swallowed the last of her diced carrots. "You're talking about a portion of time continuing on forever and ever?"

"Well . . . Yeah . . ." Gumball scratched his head. He could feel his brain starting to cramp from all this complexity, and most of it from what _he_ said. Regardless, he went on.

"Not 'continuing', per se . . . _repeating_ would be more like it. What I guess I'm trying to ask, Anais . . .," and they both looked at each other fixedly, the latter taking a drink from her milk carton, "what I want to ask is whether it's possible that the moments in our lives, like a single day, could be repeating endlessly, without us knowing?"

Anais wiped her mouth with the top of her hand. "You mean like a temporal loop?"

"Yeah!" Gumball nodded eagerly. Normally, he would be confused by all this sciency talk, but thanks to having a gifted understanding of complex words, he knew that 'temporal' meant 'time'. As for 'loop' . . . well, Anais couldn't have picked a more perfect word.

But the eagerness he felt building inside dwindled as Anais frowned. She looked annoyed, like she had when they rode the school bus that morning. "Gumball, are you sure you weren't watching a science _fiction_ video?"

"Yeah," he said carefully, "pretty sure."

"And why exactly is it important that you know all this?"

"Because I have an assignment to do," Gumball lied, "and I need to explain why time can or can't repeat itself."

Anais' expression did not improve. "That sounds a bit too advanced for a grade your level, Gumball. It even sounds too advanced for High School."

"I know it does, but do you think Miss Simian cares about that?"

At this, his little sister's face softened. "No . . . I don't think she would." Anais scooped another helping of pasta and tapped her fork in thought as she chewed. Swallowing, she went on, "Okay, so you want to know whether it's possible if a day could repeat itself outside of our awareness, right?"

"Yeah, and how or why it would do that," said Gumball, who felt anticipation pound in his chest. He had the feeling he was getting close now.

"Right . . ." Anais was staring at her nearly empty lunch tray. "The stuff on that video was all theoretical, I take it? All unconfirmed ideas?"

Gumball hesitated, but ultimately decided it was best to answer, "Yeah. Just ideas."

"Well . . . I guess there _might_ be some possibility time could act in such a way."

"Yeah?" Gumball grinned. "How?"

"Well, Gumball, I'm not totally sure. There is some hypotheses in science, saying that in order for today to exist, there must be something to bring it _into_ existence."

"Uh, yeah," said Gumball, sounding matter-of-factly. "It's called 'yesterday'."

"But that's what's confusing about it. It's obvious that our actions from yesterday influence how today will be, same as how what we do today will affect tomorrow, but this idea, Gumball — and I remind you, it's ONLY an idea — is that the day that created _today_ hasn't really ended; we simply passed from it into a different day that's ready to create another and continue a cycle that goes on and on forever. It's kind of like being inside a huge building and you're moving from one office to a new one. You're in someplace different, but the office where you've been before is still there."

Gumball raised an eyebrow. "You mean . . . you mean it's like we're entering another dimension or something?"

"Sort of," said Anais. There was an air of doubt in her tone, yet it was clear she was doing her best with this idea. "In a way, that's what Multi-Universe Theory is about. There are endless possibilities of how one day can turn out and therefore infinite possible realties. I mean, think of what the world might've been like without Miss Simian."

Gumball paused to imagine, thinking how life would be with a teacher who didn't poke fun at him whenever he didn't know the answer to a question. The smile that grew on his face was uncontrollable.

Anais smiled, too. "It's a wonderful thought, isn't it?"

"Yessssss," Gumball said with pleasure, dragging the 's' until it fell silent.

"Anyway, Gumball," said Anais, "it might be possible that the thing we call 'today' is really just a title we give for the moments we're aware of. The things we call 'yesterday' and 'tomorrow' are never really being experienced because the first is behind us and can't be revisited and the second is always beyond reach. We might remember the past or plan for the future, but the only ground any normal person can exist on is the present: the middle ground in the infinite continuum we call Time."

Anais paused and looked carefully at her brother. "You understand _anything_ I just said?"

"Some of it," Gumball replied, hoping he didn't come off as stupid. "Those are some smart ideas and all, but sis, I'm not asking what time _is_, just what a person would do if they were _in_ a situation where time didn't move forward. You know . . . not going towards tomorrow . . . just being stuck in 'the middle ground', as you call it. "

Anais lifted an eyebrow, "Gumball, if one day were never-ending, don't you think somebody would notice?"

For a brief moment, Gumball froze in his seat, caught off guard by this question, but his thoughts quickly calmed before Anais caught wind. "Well . . . probably _one_ person would notice," that person being him, "but what if it only _seemed_ like a normal day to everyone else and it's actually the same one repeating over and over?"

"Gumball, I was speaking hypothetically based off what you told me. 'Today' might be what we call the present moment, but each and every day is different. No two are totally identical."

"But what if they were?"

Anais pressed her hand to her forehead and groaned irritably, "Then we'd be blindly running in the same circles over and over!"

"Hey, it's confusing stuff. I told you that already," said Gumball, trying his best to keep himself collected. Anais being annoyed wasn't good for his information hunt. "Let me restate it: What would a person do if he or she were stuck living the same day in which nothing changed and no one but that person was aware of it?"

Anais' annoyance was firm now. Swallowing what little was left of her pasta, she said, "Gumball, that's science fiction. It's not physically possible."

"But what if it was?" This was the second time Gumball asked such a question, and he asked it delicately, leaning back in his seat to prepare for any outburst.

Anais inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, her face contorted with impatience. A few seconds passed before she opened them, physically straining to be less irritated. "I don't know. It's an interesting idea, I'll admit, but I wouldn't know. I would have to be the one stuck in such a situation to understand it, mostly because it'd probably relate to me, or something about me."

Gumball's hope started to sink. It was disheartening to hear that Anais had no solution, not even a vague concept of one. But he didn't blame her for not knowing: she was right about needing to be in the Loop to fully understand it.

"Well, Gumball," Anais said frankly, "this has been a weird lunchtime. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go do my homework." She hopped off the stack of books and carried her empty lunch tray over to the space in the cafeteria wall for it to be washed. When she returned, she stopped and frowned. Gumball was still seated at the table.

"Gumball," she said with annoyance, "I'm pretty sure you have class in a few minutes."

"Yeah, I know," but he wasn't the slightest bit concerned. "I was just wondering if you wanted help carrying your books."

He patted the stack of schoolbooks Anais used as her makeshift seat. The stack was firm and did not budge, which wasn't surprising given how thick most of the volumes were. Gumball figured that, if he showed his sister that he'd generously lend a hand, she would do the same in return.

Instead she stared at him, a little surprised, a little suspicious. "No thanks, I already have help with those," she raised a pink finger and pointed to Rocky, who walked from the food station and right towards them.

"Rocky helps you carry your books?" Gumball asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah. How else would I carry this huge stack around school?"

"So . . . he helps you with it every day?"

"Not every day. Only when I feel like I need a little extra for my classes."

"I don't mind," said Rocky happily, now beside them. "I'm always happy to help out the students."

He reached forward and took the books from the table's bench without much trouble, though he did have to hold them steadily. "Ready when you are, Anais."

"Thanks, Rocky," and the two of them began to walk away.

"Anais, wait!" called Gumball, still seated at the table.

She and Rocky stopped and turned to look back.

"Can we talk more tonight about those ideas you had?"

"I'd like to think we discussed all we could about them," said Anais, her eyebrows low. "Just write about what we talked about, Gumball. I'm sure Miss Simian will have to at least pass you. If nothing else, just go on the Internet. There's hundreds of Web sites that'll help you."

"But —"

"We can talk more later!" Anais retorted. "I have to get to class and so do you! So good afternoon, Gumball!"

And with that, Anais and Rocky walked out of the cafeteria and disappeared behind the doors, leaving Gumball to watch as they swung shut.

* * *

><p>The remainder of the school day went on with Gumball paying little attention to Miss Simian's lessons and having almost no interest in the Pep Fest. He sat silently on the gym bleachers, his two siblings beside him, and ignored the mass of cheering voices. Staring at nothing in particular, he rested his chin on both his palms, wondering what to do next. His chat with Anais had, for the most part, been disappointing. Besides being scientifically abstract — in other words, downright confusing — their discussion didn't really answer any questions he had.<p>

It was mostly disheartening to Gumball because he had counted on Anais. Though he never acknowledged it out loud, Gumball admired his little sister's brilliance, not just for all the times she helped him and Darwin with their homework, but because it made her wonderfully remarkable. She had proven on many occasions to be just as and sometimes even more intelligent than most adults. Four years old and already she had the brain of a life-long scholar. Yet, as Gumball saw for himself hours ago, there were things even Anais wasn't sure of.

Perhaps he had been too vague with his questions . . . . Maybe it _would've_ been better to just tell the truth, at least then Anais would've fully understood what he was talking about.

Then again . . . a time loop isn't the same as a science exam or a math problem.

Gumball could barely remember most of the logical parts from the talk, and what parts he did recall didn't give him any better ideas. The thought that he could be passing from one dimension to the next was mind-boggling. If his situation really was that complex, chances were he would be trapped in the Loop for the next few millennia, desperately clawing on his hands and knees for the way out.

Determined to find something useful from that discussion, no matter how complicated it had been, Gumball concentrated with all his will-power and thought back. Was there anything he missed? Anything Anais might have said that was meaningful?

He started from the earliest he could remember. Anais had said something about today never really ending . . . . She had, perhaps, came closest to the Loop on that bit, but it didn't help. If today itself really was without end and merely changed a slight bit with each go around, then it basically summed up his existence from the last few months.

Multi-Universes . . . . Could he really be living in a universe of Multi-Universes, where this one day makes up that whole universe? A moment passed and Gumball winced at a momentary migraine._ Ow . . . that really hurts the brain. Right . . . that's too complicated._ . . ._Complicated_ . . . .

The world seemed to stop. Gumball remembered something, something Mr. Robinson told him the last time they met.

_ I'm sure whatever's keeping you here . . . isn't really that complicated . . . . Something like the Loop, which hardly anyone really understands, happens quite often for the simplest reasons . . . ._

Gumball didn't know whether or not he accepted these thoughts because of how lost he was for an answer, but he ultimately decided to trust Mr. Robinson's words. He could quite agree that what was happening to him was not, by any means, scientific. His little sister might be wonderfully gifted in that difficult field, but the more Gumball thought, the less likely it seemed that Anais had the answer he was looking for.

Regardless, the hope that she might have something worthwhile to say didn't die as he, she, and Darwin returned home from school. Once off the bus, Gumball caught his chance while he and his siblings walked down the concrete pathway up to the front door.

"Anais," said Gumball, and she stopped to turn and look at him. Darwin went on into the house. "Can we talk a little more?"

"About what?"

"About the ideas we talked about in the cafeteria today."

Anais' brows lowered and she gave an irritant sigh. "Gumball, just do your assignment from what we discussed. If nothing else, just write your own dumb theories and what you think to be right. I'm sure you'll manage to scrape a C at least. Miss Simian may be rotten but even she's not totally unreasonable . . . half the time."

Gumball's brain was on static now. He had no more questions to ask. But the sun still shone and there was still time to get information before 6:20 came. He had to keep trying, even if he had to make it up on the spot.

Then again . . . why make things up? Didn't he, after all, have unlimited time with zero consequences? Why be timid about how crazy it all sounded?

"Actually, Anais," said Gumball abruptly, stopping her as she started for the door, "there IS one other thing I want to ask you about. Something not homework related."

"Uh-Huh," Anais crossed her arms, looking cynical, "and what is that?"

The answer came simple and straight. "Time loops."

The two words seem to sit for a while on the air, because Anais' pink face grew less doubtful and more puzzled. "Time loops?"

"Yeah," Gumball replied. "Time loops."

"You mean like in that one movie?"

"The comedy?" he asked. Anais nodded. "Yeah, very much like that one."

"What about them?"

"I want your opinion, sis. If you were stuck in one day and you couldn't leave until something important was done, what would you do?"

Anais frowned, looking annoyed. "Gumball, is this some sort of joke?

"No," he answered truthfully, "this is just _me_ asking _you_ what _you_ would do _if_ you were stuck in a Loop."

"Gumball, they're not physically possible."

"Yeah, but sis, please, think for moment. If you _were_ in one, what would —"

Anais growled. "Gumball, this is stupid! There's no such thing as time loops!"

"But sis, what would you do if —?"

"I wouldn't be able to do _anything_! Stuff like that can't —"

"**JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION!**"

Anais recoiled at the strong volume and fell backwards onto the lawn, much to her brother's shock.

"Sis!" Gumball rushed over and pulled her up. "Sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to shout. I . . ." and he sighed, both for letting himself get angry and for realizing now just how hopeless this effort to get information was. "I . . . I just wanted your opinion."

"Gumball . . ." and Anais sounded different than she had all day. Her voice was gentle, considerate, kinder than he had heard in all his days in the Loop. "Gumball, I don't know what I'd do. Whatever you call it, a time loop or a day that exists so a new one can be made, I really have no idea what I'd do, I _really_ don't."

There was a pause in which Anais moved closer to her brother and she looked at him with sympathy.

"Gumball, I think you're asking these questions to the wrong person. I'm sorry."

Regardless of the frustration and disappointment he felt tremble inside him, Gumball's expression remained calm and understanding.

It was tough to hear, but he nodded anyway. He shouldn't have been too surprised; his earlier talk with Anais hadn't sounded very hopeful to begin with. Wonderfully brilliant his sister is, even she doesn't know everything.

"Gumball," Anais said gently, her long pink ears lowered in gloom, "I really am sorry."

"It's okay, sis," he responded, not knowing whether or not he was being honest or just saying it out of regard for Anais' feelings.

"Gumball?" she said. "I can tell that something's bothering you."

He raised an eyebrow. Maybe he had spoken too soon about his sister's insight. "You can?"

"Of course I can. Trust me, when something's on _your_ mind, it's quite noticeable. You weren't acting like yourself today, and I don't mean your stupid and careless self, I mean your happy, carefree self. The side that, no matter what, we always like to see."

Gumball shook his head. "It's nothing, sis. I'm just not having the liveliest of days."

"Is it about the broken plate and me being mad at you?"

He froze in surprise and looked down at Anais. She was staring at the ground, looking sad, remorseful.

Gumball reassured her honestly, "No. No, Anais . . . . It's not the plate _or_ you. It's just me. I'm just not feeling as up-to-it as everyone else is."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she looked up, still sympathetic. "You were so excited for this day. You day-dreamed about it all weekend. Whatever's bothering you, I hope you feel better eventually," and with that, Anais slowly started again towards the front door, leaving Gumball to stand and watch her. Just before she reached the porch steps, she stopped and turned, "And Gumball, don't worry about that assignment you have."

"Huh?"

"Your assignment," she repeated, "the one about time repeating itself. I'm sure you'll get a decent grade on it. Good enough to pass, at least."

Gumball almost forgot about the story he spun at lunch time. Deciding to conclude the lie entirely, he went along for just this much more. "You really think so, sis?"

"Sure I do," she answered confidently. "Brainless as you sometimes act, Gumball, you have a knack when it comes to finding a solution, no matter how convoluted it is. Give yourself some time, I'm sure everything will be clear in the end."

With a tiny smile, she walked up onto the porch and opened the front door, leaving it open for her brother when he decided to come.

Standing on the sunlit sidewalk, Gumball felt the despair that had solidified in his stomach lift gracefully and disappear. He knew why; he was feeling thankful towards Anais. She had been right. He had asked the wrong person, but though this first attempt to gather information didn't bring any answers, he shouldn't feel discouraged. There were still people to ask, and he'll see to it that he would talk to all of them until he got somewhere. The answer to his problem WAS out there, he was sure of it, and he will keep looking, wherever he must.

Inside the house, Gumball headed up the stairs, passing his little sister and brother seated on the couch. He opened the door to his bedroom, closed it, walked over to the bottom bunk, and sat down.

_ All right_, he thought. _One down. Don't lose faith, there's many more left. Who should be next?_

With the last rays of the day's sunlight shinning through his window, Gumball stared at the carpeted floor and thought hard. The last words Anais spoke to him floated in his brain like solid white smoke.

_Give yourself some time, I'm sure everything will be clear to you in the end._

Gumball prayed she was right. For the time being, though, he was stuck in the middle ground — the Knot of the Loop — and was without much idea of what to do or when he would ever find any answers. They felt like they were miles away; as far and as intangible as the strange and unknown place called 'tomorrow'.

* * *

><p><strong>And that's chapter 14...I hope it was at least okay. ANY comments or improvements are welcome. Seriously, if there's a sentence you think could've been written better, I'm open to suggestions.<strong>


	15. Asking Around, PART II

**I bet all of you are thinking, "Is this guy going to do this every time? Write a chapter and then lag like a slug for five months, doing who-knows-what while the rest of us go on waiting like starving dogs?" Well, I must confess to you all, I wanted to try something different in hopes of building my writing skills, so, instead of writing in this fanfic, I wrote a separate and shorter one, an **_**MLP: FiM **_**about Spike and Twilight.**

** Now I'm back and hopefully ready to continue delivering more chapters with our old pal Gumball. I need to remember that there's no way to improve unless you write, which, sadly, is easier said than done. My New Year's Resolution is to be more creative, so hopefully my writing skills will be given a little more focus.**

**DISCLAIMER: ****I OWN NOTHING**** from **_**The Amazing World of Gumball**_**, including characters, places, or any other references that may appear in this story; not a thing.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15<strong>

_Asking __Around__ ~~ PART II_

Gumball stood in front of the bathroom mirror, one blue hand gripping the sink's side while the other held his toothbrush, scrubbing vigorously back and forth. The motions, the taste, the sensation of bristles against tooth and gum was all too familiar, almost mechanical. Spitting out the foamy toothpaste, Gumball rinsed his mouth and whiskers of the mint-flavored suds and watched the opaque water flow down the flushing drain.

It was strangely amusing. As far back as he could remember, Gumball had brushed his teeth each night before going to bed. This imprinted action in his normal, daily routine hadn't changed even when the Loop had come into play. But in light of his current entrapment, Gumball wondered if there was any point in doing it anymore. Since tomorrow never comes and today refuses to go away, his teeth were, technically, in the same state as they had been since this Monday began. So why should he keep caring for his teeth, or even his overall appearance? He's not getting any older, any weaker or duller. Why should he care?

Gumball twirled his toothbrush in between his fingers, pondering all this. Eventually, after a few short moments with no real decision, he gave a mere shrug and placed his toothbrush back in the cup atop the sink, where it rested closely beside four others.

Back outside in the dimly lit hall, he passed by an open door and slowed down. At the sight of her brother, Anais gave Gumball a cute, friendly wave. She was fluffing her pillow and was dressed in pink pajamas, preparing for what she believed was another ordinary night's sleep.

Smirking lightly, Gumball returned Anais' kind gesture with a wave of his own.

Regardless that today hadn't gone as he hoped and that he hadn't learned anything important, this Monday had been satisfying just with seeing Anais smile. Gumball didn't fully understand it — he even felt somewhat silly — but to know that his sister wasn't angry, and was, for a change, looking at him with kindness and love, seemed to lessen the weight he felt in his left shoulder, right where the black mark of the Loop rested like an unwanted, heavy strap.

In his shadowy bedroom, Gumball changed into his nightshirt and shorts. He tossed his favorite gray sweater and pants heedlessly onto the floor, knowing that it didn't matter whether he hung them up or not, as the clothes would do that for him while he slept.

_ Now if only they could do that _outside_ the Loop_, he thought, smirking as he straightened the shorts around his waist.

He climbed the ladder up to his bunk and tucked under the covers. Turning on his side, Gumball looked over the edge of his bed and down at his brother, who was asleep inside his fishbowl.

Darwin had grumpily chosen to go to bed early, no doubt to try and push away his frustration from the morning's disappointment. He and Gumball hadn't spoken since that moment when Miss Simian handed them their grades; Darwin still had a slight, sour look on his goldfish face, enlarged by it being pressed against the bowl's glass.

There was no use trying to reason or explain to Darwin right now, Gumball knew that. The alarm clock from across the room currently read 9:52, and Gumball was certain that Darwin wouldn't be any more eager to forgive now than he had been earlier when he shot Gumball one last furious glower before trudging upstairs.

No, what they both needed now was a quiet night's sleep. Once the day starts over in the morning, Darwin will be back to his simple, happy, everyday self — exactly how Gumball needed him to be.

So, not wasting a second more, Gumball eased back on his pillow and closed his eyes, his mind buzzing with questions until it became so fuzzy that he slipped away, leaving his thoughts silent and blind.

* * *

><p>It seemed as though only a few seconds passed instead of hours when the alarm clock rang out its familiar, repetitive noise at 6:20. Gumball woke effortlessly and managed to shut the alarm off after only a few buzzes. His bedroom was warm and bright with sunlight, forming a yellow square on the carpet that stretched from the clear window.<p>

Gumball stood motionlessly by the alarm, waiting for the action he knew would happen.

Just over a minute later, Anais walked in through the open door, dressed in her blue pajamas, her little hand rubbing her sleepy pink face.

"Morning, Gumball," she said with a soft yawn.

Gumball gave her a little wave and walked over to Darwin's fishbowl. He raised a blue finger and gave the glass sphere a few small taps.

Darwin opened one eye at the sound and, smiling, rose out from the bowl, soaking wet.

"Morning, buddy," he said, stepping onto the towel laid out by the dresser.

"Hey, Darwin," Gumball replied. "Did you have a nice sleep? You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I slept pretty good. I feel fine."

_ Good_, Gumball thought. As he expected, Darwin was quite cheery, exactly how he needed him to be.

The choice to have Darwin be the next person to question in his search for answers felt fairly reasonable to Gumball. He and his goldfish brother practically lived attached at the hip, spending nearly all their time together, whether it be school, playing video games, or struggling with homework. They went through practically all the good and bad times together (sometimes forced to because of the other refusing to be sensible).

It almost felt strange to Gumball that he hadn't chosen Darwin to start with on this little search for answers. Anais, though a genius and tenderly close to Gumball as his sister, only occasionally spent time with him. In the case of Darwin, it was virtually a twenty-four hour job. Gumball could confidently say that no other person probably knew him better, at least on a friendship level.

"Hey, Darwin . . . can we talk?" said Gumball, wanting to start as soon as possible.

"Just a second," his brother said with a yawn, drying himself off with another nearby towel.

Gumball waited as his brother finished wiping away most of the water, then opened his mouth again, ready to speak. But another voice spoke first.

"Gumball?" said Anais, giving her brother's nightshirt a gentle tug. "I want to talk to you about —"

"Darwin, I need to ask you a few things," said Gumball, as though he didn't hear Anais. "You should know, this will sound weird, but, please, just listen. Darwin, have you —"

Before Gumball could say any more, he was cut off by a sudden CRASH, accompanied by a few grunts and a thud.

Darwin and Anais shot over to the window to look outside and down at the sidewalk below. Gumball did not move, but instead, let off a sigh of annoyance. He knew what had happened. How many times had he and his siblings heard Larry fall off his bike?

While Anais and Darwin muttered to themselves about Larry's accident, Gumball took advantage of the momentary quiet to gather his thoughts.

How should he go about asking Darwin about the Loop? Now that he was planning on doing it, Gumball realized he hadn't given the matter much thought. Yesterday, when he questioned Anais, he had made a plan, but that was mainly because of how skeptical Anais would've been had Gumball been straightforward in his explanation. Darwin, Gumball hoped, wouldn't be that strict in thought. Chances were, he could just ask freely and learn what Darwin knew right off the bat. No need to be too discreet.

But there was still, nevertheless, another problem.

Over on the desk where the now silent alarm clock sat, the green numbers read 6:25. In little more than an hour and a half, Darwin's happy demeanor will evaporate at first sight of the ugly, red F on his science report. When that happens, Gumball knew any attempt to ask Darwin in a reasonable, sound manner will be dashed to pieces.

_ I gotta be quick with this_, Gumball thought. He turned back towards his brother and sister, both having turned from the window.

Anais stepped forward and this time spoke with an edge of seriousness, "Gumball, we need to talk about Mom's —"

"Later, sis," Gumball answered. "Right now, me and Darwin need to talk, so just go and eat breakfast and we'll talk about Mom's plate when I have the time."

He ignored his sister's irritated grimace and was about to speak when Darwin cried, "Hold that thought!" in which he rushed from the room, down the hall, and into the bathroom.

Standing in his room's doorway, Gumball gave off a slight grumble.

"Ah, good," Anais said briskly from behind. "Now, Gumball, about Mom's plate."

But Gumball wasn't listening. He slowly walked from his room to the stairs, his mind reeling through thoughts and memory, all centered around Darwin.

Ever since the beginning of this unbelievably, unnaturally long day, Darwin's anger kept popping up like a starving fish jumping for juicy flies, and all due to their stupid science report. Gumball sighed. It was the first time in so long that he actually gave the report any serious thought.

Moving sluggishly down the stairs to the living room, Gumball's mind traveled back to that simple day when the science report was assigned to his class.

Miss Simian had instructed, in her usual old scratchy voice, that each student was to team up with a partner and complete a shared paper on a scientific topic of their choice. It had been Darwin's idea to do their's on seaweed, focusing mainly on how it grew and expanded in location during its lifecycle in the ocean. Gumball hadn't been too thrilled by the idea, but appreciated that it seemed like a rather simple subject and thus agreed with Darwin to have it be their topic of choice.

And indeed, the research had been fairly easy. The Internet and library had supplied most of their information, including records on aquatic botany and their respective ecosystems, a book of elegant sea plant sketches and diagrams, and assorted oceanography videos from a collected group of studious colleges. He and Darwin even took a trip down to the local aquarium and got to study a few subjects of their research in person (which, in Gumball's opinion, got pretty boring after the first half-hour).

For the written part, Gumball had taken the task of typing out the report as Darwin happily dictated their research. This was a smart decision as Darwin clearly cared more about the subject than he did. Gumball remembered groggily typing the report — the quiet chatter of the library kept giving him the urge to rest his head and take a nap on the computer desk.

He also remembered the groans he made as the project had entered the final week: inserting the last bits of info, double-checking the sources one last time, as well as listening to the "woooows" and "oooohs" Darwin made as he gazed in wonder at the joys of the ocean. Then, just last Friday, in study hall, they had added the final edits and at last turned in their report, all coupled with typed pages, drawings, and colored graphs.

Weeks of work, of collecting information had went into that project, and, for the life of him, Gumball couldn't see how, after all that time, he had forgotten to put down Darwin's name.

_ I remember typing in _my_ name_, Gumball thought. _So what happened that made me . . ._

Shutting his eyes tightly, Gumball's attention shot back to the present and he stopped on the last stair, shaking his head. He'll have more time to think about that dumb slipup later — quite literally, seeing as it was little over an hour from happening. Right now, though, he had to question Darwin before it got too late.

In the meantime, Gumball remained standing on the bottom step, content with hiding from his mother, who stood around the corner in the kitchen with her broken plate, her arms crossed. Anais, meanwhile, stood unnoticed beside Gumball, her fists closed and teeth clenched, shaking in aggravation at being completely ignored for trying to express her deep concerns toward her big brother.

* * *

><p>Nicole stomped heatedly from the house to the family car, not taking in any of the beautiful weather. The solid blue, the feathery white clouds, the warm golden rays of sunlight — all of it was dulled by the agitation burning in her cheeks. Gumball had completely ignored her as she yelled about her china plate; he had acted as though the importance behind the family treasure wasn't worth a speck of attention. The sight of her son's uncaring, impassive face was both infuriating as well as depressing to Nicole.<p>

Gripping the steering wheel as though she wanted to break it, Nicole closed her eyes, tilted her head down, and breathed slowly through her nose. A few seconds later, she felt much calmer, and her glare melted to one of gloom.

She thought she had made the importance of her grandmother's plates clear to the family. She thought her son cared about them like she did . . . .

Anais, matching her mother's attitude, walked outside to stand on the sidewalk and wait sourly for the school bus. She tried thinking of something happy, anything to lessen her frustration, but the sounds of her mother shouting at Gumball still rang through her long pink ears.

_ I tried to warn him. It's his own fault!_ Anais argued with herself. _It's bad enough he made such a stupid choice, but to actually shrug it off like nothing! _Anais glared across the street, trying to find a target to set her frustration on. Nothing seemed good enough. _He didn't listen to me and look what happened! So what? Why should I care?_

Anais' face softened. Her gaze dropped to the ground. _Why do_ _I care?_

Richard, meanwhile, sat glumly on the couch; the TV was off. He was fiddling with his new red necktie which Gumball had barely glanced at despite the critical looks his mother had given him, as though she had been silently growling, "_Compliment your father's tie before I slap you!_"

None of this behavior went unnoticed by Darwin, who had sat in the middle of all the hubbub, of all the glares and the annoyed and dejected faces. Needless to say, he hadn't expected these things from his family, or at least not _that_ early in the morning.

Gumball, however, to Darwin's surprise, acted the most strange of his family members. He had skipped breakfast and now appeared to be in deep thought. The only times Darwin ever saw Gumball in deep thought was when something very big was going on. But Darwin didn't think much of it, given that, if it was anything serious, Gumball would've told him by now.

After brushing his teeth, Darwin headed back downstairs to go and wait with Anais for the school bus. The moment after he turned the knob and pulled the door open, Gumball appeared on the other side, still holding that look which foretold deep contemplation.

"Hey . . . Gumball," Darwin scratched his orange head in friendly awkwardness. "Is something bothering you?"

Gumball felt it best not to lie, at least not entirely. "Yeah . . . sort of. I need to ask you a couple things."

"The bus will be here soon. How about we talk more when it gets here?"

Reasonable as that suggestion was, Gumball knew it would not do. Time —though he had more than he could've ever asked for— was currently short, and he knew that if he didn't ask in the time he had, Darwin's attitude would subtly drop to the point where any response would be of anger and bitterness.

"Darwin," said Gumball, raising an arm to stop his brother from going any further, "what I want to ask you _will_ sound weird, but, please, please try to take it seriously and answer as best you can."

"Uh . . . okay," said Darwin, raising an eyebrow. "What is it?"

Gumball was straight to the point. "Darwin, if you were stuck living the same day over and over again, and nothing changed, and nobody but you were aware of it, what would you do to try and get out of it?"

Gumball held his breath and awaited the answer.

Darwin looked puzzled. "Is this a question from Miss Simian's homework?"

"No," Gumball shook his head, "it's just _me_ asking _you_. Any ideas?"

He watched as Darwin's eyes scrunched and glanced around the living room, not really looking at anything in particular.

"Well?" Gumball's tone was one of desperate hope.

Darwin shook his head, clearly lost for what to make of it. "I . . . I don't know. Stuck living the same day? You mean like in that movie?"

"The one about the blizzard and the woodchuck? Yeah."

"Well, if I was the one stuck living the same day, I guess it would have to have something to do with me. You know, it'd probably be something personal."

"_And_," Gumball stressed, "what do you think that might be?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Maybe — bus is here!"

Without another word, Darwin rushed around Gumball and jogged down the concrete walkway to the sidewalk. Gumball followed after without giving his moping father one backwards glance.

Aboard the bus, Gumball walked down the thin aisle, following Darwin from behind. He had no attention for any of his classmates, not even Penny as she happily waved her white pompom in his direction.

He sat down between his siblings in the backmost seat. Anais was glaring at him with her arms crossed.

"So," Gumball said, paying no mind to his sister's heated glower, "what were you going to say back there, Darwin?"

Darwin didn't answer at first. He looked at Gumball, then off to the side, then back again. "Say?"

"About what might keep a person in the Loo—I mean, keep them stuck in one day?"

The bus started to move down the block.

"What are you two talking about?" asked Anais, her tone both curious and grumpy.

"Nothing," Gumball said quickly. "So, Darwin?"

"Uh . . ." Again, Darwin scrunched his eyebrows and was looking in every direction, up at the bus's top and then at the dirty floor beneath. "I . . . I really don't know what might cause it."

"Cause _what_?" asked Anais, a little louder.

Gumball was about to raise his hand to wave her off, but Darwin already answered, "What would cause someone to live the same day over and over."

The bus made a turn.

Anais cocked an eyebrow and looked at Gumball with confusion. "What?"

"Maybe you should let Anais help you with this one, Gumball," said Darwin. "She'd probably know more about it than me."

"No, she wouldn't," he said bluntly. "Come on, buddy, please —"

"HEY!" Anais' voice rang in deep irritation. "No fair! How do you know I wouldn't know better than Darwin? Give me a chance!"

"Anais," Gumball said with a sigh of impatience, "trust me, okay? You don't know. I asked you already."

"_When_?" she retorted.

"Yesterday." He paused suddenly, reconsidering his response, "Or . . . perhaps I should say 'today'. Yeah . . . today makes more sense."

The bus turned another corner.

Anais went silent, looking perplexed. Gumball took advantage of the hesitation.

"So, Darwin," he continued, "_please_, try and think. You're stuck in the same day. You've tried to make up for any mistakes you made. You've tried _everything_, and you don't know what else to do. You're being kept in the same day for a reason. Now . . . why do you think that is?"

Gumball could tell that Darwin was giving harder effort this time. He dropped his gaze and tapped his fin on his nonexistent chin. Gumball silently watched Darwin ponder in his seat, and, though he didn't turn around, Gumball thought he heard a little hum come from Anais, trying to think and gather ideas on the question. Gumball felt a warm tingle of appreciation for his sister then. She still wanted to help him . . . .

The bus was driving straightforward again.

"Maybe . . ." Darwin said quietly.

"Yes?" Gumball asked eagerly.

"Maybe . . ." and Darwin suddenly gasped with excitement, "maybe someone else is pulling the strings!"

Gumball blinked. "What?"

"Well, you say you've tried everything, right? You keep trying to fix the problem, whatever it is, going about it in every way you can think of, trying everything, except nothing's working. But Gumball, maybe the problem isn't all that hard. Maybe the answer is something simple, maybe it's staring you right in the face."

"And what would that be, exactly?" Gumball asked, having no clue where his brother's idea was going.

"Well, my guess is that it's all being caused not by _something_, but by _someone_."

"Like who?" said Gumball.

"I don't know. If a person is stuck living the same day over and over, you'd probably think that you'd have to do something big, like build a house or save a life, but if you've tried all that, maybe it's just someone else's doing. You know, someone who's just having a laugh."

"A laugh?" Gumball said incredulously. "Darwin, what person would be twisted enough to trap someone in one day just for the sake of personal amusement? That's like forcing actors to do the same movie over and over just so the director can live off it a thousand reruns."

The bus took another turn down the street.

"Hey, you wanted me to give an answer," said Darwin. "It's the best guess I've got."

"Right," Gumball responded, trying to appear calm to spare Darwin's feelings. "But . . . I don't know how likely that would be, buddy." In truth, Gumball didn't think this idea was _at_ _all_ likely. There was little he knew about the Loop, but he was pretty certain it wasn't being caused by some mysterious, outside entity. If it was, there would be a whole lot more Gumball would need to ponder over, things that included his very existence and all the strange situations he and his family had gotten into over the years.

Surely not, Gumball thought. He couldn't be some ignorant puppet, blindly acting on stage for someone's amusement, oblivious to what was really happening and having no decision of how to live. He had a life, just like everybody else in his world, and at the moment, the whole of _his_ life was twenty-four hours, circling round and round like a dysfunctional merry-go-round.

"Well . . . thanks anyway, Darwin," said Gumball, accepting defeat.

"No problem," Darwin nodded. "Sorry it wasn't what you expected."

"Well . . ." said Anais, her voice clear so as to leave no chance that she would go unheard, "I think that's a very interesting idea. Who knows, Gumball? Someone else _could_ be in control."

"True, someone could," he said simply for the sake of it, "but I don't think that's what the answer is. It just seems too weird to be the reason behind it."

Before Gumball could think of anything further to say, the bus came to a halt and Darwin stood up from his seat.

"Well, like I said, Gumball," said Darwin. "Maybe the reason isn't all that tricky. I'm sure you'll think of it eventually. My advice, though, try not to let it bother you too much. I mean," he paused and then gave a light chuckle, "it's not like it's actually happening to you."

Still seated, Gumball bleakly watched Darwin move forward and off the bus with their classmates. Knowing that his luck had run dry, Gumball pressed his hand to his forehead and sighed.

The chances had never been great that Darwin would know the answer to escaping the Loop. Anais didn't know and she's a genius; what hope had there been that Darwin would know? As close as his brother was to him, Gumball knew, now more than ever, that this problem, whatever it was, solely involved himself. Whatever connection anyone else might have, it all had something to do with him. He was the one with the mark, the one who remembered the day's events and outcomes, the one the Loop had decided to to why, well . . . that was anyone's blind guess.

Feeling defeated and quite apathetic, Gumball got up from his seat, ready to head outside for school. But before he could take a step forward, he heard a noise that sounded like tiny shoes falling to the floor next to him, causing him to jump. Turning, he saw that Anais was still on the bus.

"Nice to see you remembered me," she said stiffly.

Gumball stared at her. "Huh?"

"Oh, just forget it!" she shouted, sounding frustrated and disappointed. "Don't bother listening to what I have to say! Just ignore me, like you did with Mom's plate and everyone else all weekend, caught up in your stupid daydreams about Penny and the dumb Pep Fest! Well, hate to break you out of them, but we have school in five minutes, so wake up and get going!"

Gumball's mouth fell open in bafflement. "Wha—?"

"No need to thank your little sister for trying to help! Just shrug her off like always!"

Perplexed and wide-eyed, Gumball watched Anais stomp off the bus and disappear, passing by a confused Rocky at the driver's seat who had overheard her shouts.

_ And to think_, Gumball thought grimly, _she was so cute and sweet hours ago_.

After a sigh and shaking his head for his sister's ill-tempered leave, Gumball walked on ahead to the bus' exit, his mood gloomy at how his attempts to gain answers had already been dashed, and all before 8:00.

Gumball stepped off the bus and onto the sidewalk, the towering school directly in front. The weather, with its feathery clouds, ocean blue skies, and the bright Sun with its literal beaming face, seemed to mock him and his situation.

Darwin was standing on the first stair leading up to the school, a confused look on his face.

"What's wrong with Anais?" he asked when Gumball got close enough.

"Oh, you know," said Gumball, shrugging his shoulders, "she's mad because I didn't listen to her about Mom's plate that I broke last night."

"Yeah," Darwin said slowly, placing his foot on the second stair. "She did mention that to me. How exactly did you break it, by the way?"

Without meaning to, Gumball let off a deep groan. Anais had reminded him of the accident so many times that to hear it from Darwin made it feel like a sporadic migraine. "I wanted to have a cookie last night and didn't want to leave crumbs on the counter, so I grabbed the nearest plate to me and broke it by accident when I tried to put it back."

"Well, Mom sure did sound angry about it," said Darwin, stopping on the middle step. "But it's hard not to side with her, Gumball. I mean, she did tell us yesterday how important those plates are to her."

Gumball was about to nod in agreement when, as though a bolt of lightning shot overhead, he froze in mid-step on the stairs, his focus rocketing into absolute clarity. "What? Mom said that? _When_ did she say that?"

"Yesterday," answered Darwin, looking at Gumball with curiousness. "You remember. At lunch time?" Gumball still didn't seem to get it. "We all had sandwiches and Mom told us about how her grandma first inherited those plates. It was actually a pretty fascinating story. I mean, they didn't come from China at all," he said, finishing with a smirk.

"I . . . uh . . . yeah . . . ." Gumball's mind was reeling. He tried forcing his memory to recall that far off Sunday when his mother had apparently told the family this story.

Nothing came. If he didn't trust Darwin so deeply, Gumball might've thought his brother was pulling his leg.

"So . . . Mom told us all that on Sunday?" Gumball asked, his face screwed up in confusion.

"Yeah." Darwin reached the top step and raised an eyebrow. "Gumball, don't you remember?"

"No. . ." he said with a slow shake of his head. "Nothing . . . ."

"Eh," Darwin shrugged. "That really doesn't surprise me. You were kind of out of it all weekend. A little bit on Friday, too. But, hey, that was then; nothing we can do about it now. Besides," he then produced a light smile, as though to cheer Gumball up, "you really seem focused today. Excited for the Pep Fest, I bet?"

"What?" Gumball said abruptly, having just shot back from trying again to recall the Sunday previous.

"Maybe not so focused, after all . . ." Darwin said steadily. "Well . . . come on. Miss Simian won't like it if we're late. But, then again, I don't think she likes us either way."

Darwin turned and walked away through the school's entrance. Gumball, meanwhile, took his time making his way up the remaining stairs, his mind churning with what Darwin had just told him.

It was strange and unnerving. Though he had absolutely no recollection of it ever happening, Gumball was easily able to picture himself and his family at the dining room table, eating a Sunday lunch of sandwiches. Then, imagining her actions but not her spoken words, his mother conveyed the story of her china plates — the very set from which he had borrowed that night and broke.

Gumball frowned, rubbing his blue hand over the spot where the Loop mark lay on his shoulder. How could he have heard such a story and then be so brainless as to borrow one of the plates and break it? He couldn't be _that_ forgetful . . . .

Yet, no matter how hard Gumball tried, he couldn't remember his mother telling him anything about her plates. In fact, now that Gumball thought about it, he couldn't remember anything from Sunday at all. Any mental image of that far off day appeared as a blur, unclear and without sound, like a dense fog that had spread far, hiding everything. Perhaps this was due to him living this in one Monday for so long . . . .

Having reached the school's entrance, his mind still hanging with its questions, Gumball pushed the door open. Darwin was waiting a few feet inside the hallway, looking annoyed.

"Come on, Gumball! We're gonna be late!"

All confusion about the china plate left Gumball at hearing his brother's impatient tone. It was a cold reminder of what awaited in just a few minutes, when Darwin would receive his failing grade. It was like a blemish on this Monday, a scar that couldn't be avoided. The science reports were already graded, and there was no way to change them. Darwin's current annoyance was nothing, nothing compared to what was coming.

Standing in the light of the school hallway, Gumball felt nothing but shame. How could he have forgotten to include his brother's name? His own brother, who had worked so enthusiastically on their report. Just like with their Mom's plate, Gumball's memory seemed to have skipped over the crucial moment of including Darwin's name, and now Darwin was, once again, going to pay the price for Gumball's moment of inexplicable stupidity.

What on Earth could he possibly do?

"Hey!" Gumball ran up to Darwin, smiling awkwardly. "Buddy, can . . . can we, uh . . . talk for a minute?"

"School _starts_ in a minute," Darwin replied with haste in his voice. "Can't it wait?"

"No, it can't," Gumball answered grimly. He didn't know what his brain was concocting, why he decided to do this. He was going with his unclear instinct. "Uh, Darwin . . . I need to tell you something. Or, rather . . . ask you something."

"What is it now?"

Gumball bit his lip. His intestines squirmed as he tried to think of the best way to word the question. "Darwin, if you made a mistake . . . a big mistake, one that you didn't mean to let happen and it affected someone you care about and you couldn't change it . . . how would you explain yourself?"

Darwin stared at him, his eyebrows dropping slightly.

Gumball's insides continued to twist and fidget like snakes trapped in a cramped jar. Did Darwin know that he was the subject of the question?

"What kind of mistake do you mean?" Darwin asked.

"The kind that makes the person you upset very mad at you," Gumball explained. "So much that the person doesn't want to talk to you ever again."

And to Gumball's surprise, Darwin's face showed sympathy. "Gumball, Mom won't stay mad at you forever. Sure, the plate was valuable, and one of a kind, _and_ a family treasure, but it was just a plate. You know that Mom loves you more than —"

"I'm not talking about Mom, Darwin!" Gumball felt and heard the strain in his own voice. He knew there was hardly any time left.

Darwin appeared to sense the dread behind Gumball's anxiety, because he then asked, with an air of caution, "Are you talking about me?"

Gumball had to force himself not to shirk as his blood pressure spiked a level.

"Gumball?" Darwin said, and his voice was one of both concern and suspicion. "What's going on with you?"

As though his jaw were set in a vice, Gumball had to put in as much force as he could just to open his mouth. He didn't know if he would be able to say anything from the stress of it.

He tried to speak, and out came a voice that was so screechy, it couldn't possibly have belonged to Gumball. And that's because it didn't.

The two brothers looked around. Miss Simian had just walked out of the Teacher's Lounge, whose door closed with another sharp screech. The ancient teacher took one last bite from what was left of a frosted scone. In her other gray, baboon hand, Miss Simian held a small stack of papers, resting at the hip of her pink, polka dotted dress.

"Wattersons!" Miss Simian cried, her voice full of her usual bitterness. "Class starts in a minute! Get a move on!"

She walked past them in a calm strut. Darwin made no attempt to disobey and followed after. Gumball, however, stood rooted to the spot, his mind going hectic as he tried to think.

_ What do I do?_ His eyes darted frantically from Miss Simian to Darwin as they walked away in seemingly slow-motion. Gumball knew he could persuade Miss Simian to give Darwin his grade like he had done before, but he didn't see how it would change anything. It wouldn't get him out of the Loop and even if Darwin's attitude remains calm, Gumball wasn't sure how many more answers he could get out of his brother.

Darwin's guess that all of this were happening because of a mysterious, otherworldly presence just didn't feel likely. Plus, the idea of being a puppet for someone else's amusement was just dreadful to think about. Gumball would've staked his life that the Loop was happening due to something about _himself_, something that neither he nor his siblings knew or understood.

Sighing, Gumball walked after his brother and teacher, his head bowed in defeat. There really was no way to avoid what was coming next, at least not today.

Once inside the classroom, all the students there and accounted for, Gumball quietly joined his brother in the desk beside him.

He didn't hear Principal Brown over the intercom as the morning announcements were given, he didn't need to; he could've mouthed it word for word in precise rhythm, along with every pause and increase in pacing. But Gumball had no mind for anything except his poor brother and the unusually loud ticking of the overhead clock, ticking like knocks to the side of his skull.

Gumball did, however, hear Miss Simian as she started to hand out the grade sheets, imagining she were a judge giving out death warrants rather than grades. He didn't look down when Miss Simian slammed his sheet onto his desk. He didn't even flinch. His sight kept to the clock, wishing that time would go faster so as to get this over and done with.

Out of the corner of his vision, Gumball heard Darwin's shocked exclamation, then Miss Simian's calm and impassive explanation, and finally, from Darwin, his accusation said through what Gumball knew was gritted teeth and a furious glare.

Why, Gumball asked himself for the hundredth time. How? How could he have forgotten to include Darwin's name, after all that work, all that research and effort from both of them?

Slumped in his desk, Gumball closed his eyes at the unacceptable answer. _I don't know_.

And that was it, precisely it. Gumball didn't know. He didn't know _anything_: how he had forgotten his mother's story on Sunday, how he could've he forgotten his brother's name, why this day always turned out so badly. There seemed to be no explanation anywhere, no answers to be found.

He couldn't fathom what the Loop wanted from him. What had he done wrong? What had he forgotten or had to learn? Was he really just a mindless puppet after all?

Seated in his desk, his ears ringing with the inaudible drawls of Miss Simian's lesson, Gumball stopped thinking altogether. For a moment, all was temporarily still.

Tilting his head down, Gumball focused and breathed slowly through his nose, calming himself. His mind seemed to grow lighter in weight, more gentler and friendly, reminding him of his goal.

_ You'll have plenty of other chances to help Darwin. Keep it to the side and fix it when you know what's really go on. Right now, just use your time and continue on with what you started yesterday._

With another slow, calm exhale, Gumball raised his head, his face determined and fists clenched. Looking up at the clock again, he read the time: 8:40. It was still early morning, it was too early to give up; there was more than enough time left for Gumball to ask questions. Anais and Darwin were checked off the list, but that left plenty of room for other people, many of them sitting in this very classroom.

He'll keep going, he decided, continuing down the list, stopping only when he completely runs out.

In the meantime, Gumball contented to sit in his desk, thinking of who he should go to next. All the while, he resolved to ignore his brother's glares, which, in that moment of determination, seemed as hidden as the 8-shaped mark resting on his shoulder.

* * *

><p><strong>Absolutely all comments are welcome, positive or negative.<strong>

**Again, I cannot express my regrets for making you all wait this long. I plan on having Chapter 16, the concluding chapter in Gumball's search for answers, posted in, HOPEFULLY, a few weeks time. I WILL FINISH THIS STORY. I promise ALL of you this. You, my readers, are the reason I write, and it is because of all of you that I'm still writing at all. It means more than words can describe.**


	16. Asking Around, PART III

**Sorry about the wait (AGAIN). As some of you may have read in my last chapter, I planned on posting one more "Asking Around" chapter. However, due to it exceeding 10,000 words, I decided to split it into two separate smaller chapters. Here's the third part. The fourth and final will be posted very shortly.**

****DISCLAIMER: ****I OWN NOTHING**** from **_**The Amazing World of Gumball**_**, including characters, places, or any other references that may appear in this story; not a thing.****

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><p><strong>Chapter 16<strong>

_Asking Around ~~ PART III_

Gumball rocketed out of Miss Simian's classroom the instant the school bell rang for lunch period. Inunder ten seconds, he sped down the hall, whooshed past the many lockers, and pushed through the cafeteria doors at such a speed, that a few loose papers which had littered the hallway floor blew inside with him.

Slowing his pace, Gumball walked quickly down the empty lunch line. Mr. Small, seated at his table with the huge bottle ofcoffee beans, greeted Gumball with his usual carefree, fixed smile and offered him to take a guess at the amount in the bottle. Gumball offered nothing short of a wave. He headed, instead, to a corner table where Rachel was sitting and, by the looks of it, halfway through her lunch.

"Hi, Rachel," Gumball greeted, alerting the poofy haired girl from taking another bite of mixed fruit. Rachel didn't scowl at him, but she didn't smile, either.

"Oh, hey," she spoke casually, in an almost bored tone. "What do you want?"

"Glad you asked," said Gumball. Without asking for permission, he sat down and began talking, knowing he had only a minute before Darwin arrived. "I have a little question that's bothering me, Rachel, and _yes_," he raised a finger, just as she was about to speak, "I already asked Darwin. He didn't know and he's coming right now to eat lunch with you."

"Really?" Rachel asked, her mood brightening by a considerable amount.

"Yep, and he's currently not very happy with me, so I got to make this quick." Gumball cleared his throat, folded his hands on the table, and then calmly, but quickly, asked, "Rachel, if you were stuck reliving the same day and nothing changed and nobody but you were aware of what was going on, what do you think you would need to do to get out of it?"

The long question felt stale on Gumball's tongue, as though it were something old, crusty, and without flavor.  
>Rachel stopped chewing her food and raised an eyebrow. Taking the last few bites, she swallowed, then replied, "You talking about that one movie?"<p>

Repressing a sigh, Gumball answered, "Yeah . . . that movie."

"Hmm . . ." Rachel seemed to take the matter into mind for a moment, then shot Gumball a rather hard, questioning look. "You said Darwin's mad at you?"

"Yeah, he is, but —"

"What did you do?" Rachel asked heatedly, and she crossed her arms and looked accusingly at Gumball as though he had just done something very naughty.

Trying his utmost not to sound impatient, Gumball replied, "Rachel, please. Chances are, Darwin will tell you when he gets here. When he does, then you and he can both be mad at me and do whatever you two want. I really couldn't care less."

Straightening himself in the seat, Gumball sighed before continuing. "Look . . . Rachel, I know you're not very fond of me. In fact, if Darwin wasn't my brother, you probably wouldn't be talking to me right now. I get it — you're popular and I'm not. You have your own opinion about who's in and who isn't, but please, if you can just answer my one question as best you can, I'll get out of your large, puffy hair and you can go back to eating your lunch."

Rachel's expression was still quite rigid owing to the comment about her hair, but she calmed enough to give her answer. "I don't know. Movies like that are fine, but I don't waste my time thinking a lot about them. That's more Tobias' thing, and all the other stupid things you boys do."

"Do you have any idea, then, _why_ someone might live the same day over and over?"

"No."

"Do you have _any_ guesses?" Gumball added with some weight. "Any at all? There aren't any wrong answers here, you know."

Rachel reconsidered and seemed to ponder a little. "Well, in that case, I guess it might have to do with a problem I might have. In the movie, the guy had to get over being a stuck up, selfish jerk and realize what's important before anything changed for him."

_ You could probably take a few lessons_, Gumball thought brashly, but quickly swept this thought aside. "Okay. Anything else?"

Rachel gave a careless shrug. "Maybe it's all just a dream?"

Gumball slowly blinked, ignoring the stab of annoyance that popped inside his brain. "Yeah . . ." he said dryly, "I don't think so."

"Well, I don't know, then," Rachel said disdainfully, taking a bite from her slice of cake. "Now," she chewed, and shook her hand at him as though she were shooing away a fly, "be a pal and get out of here."

Gumball frowned, feeling insulted, but Rachel swallowed and quickly added, "Don't get me wrong, Gumball. I don't hate you or anything, but I can't have anyone from my grade see me eating with someone from your — Oh, hi, Darwin!" Rachel jumped up in her seat, smiled, and started to wave over Gumball's shoulder.

"Aaaaand that's my cue to leave," Gumball said wearily. He stood up from the table and, without looking behind to see Darwin's irritated glare, headed onward to his next idea.

As he walked, Gumball took a long silent breath through his nose, and, consequentially, inhaled the scents he had smelled a thousand times before. They made him feel somewhat sleepy.

Gumball had never expected Rachel to have any idea of a solution to his problem, but thought it couldn't hurt to go and ask her. Having had a couple minutes to spare as his classmates got their lunches and sat down, he figured that, seeing as Rachel's grade arrived there already, he would just go ahead and give her a try. Despite her tendency to be snooty, Rachel was a reasonably smart girl.

Gumball came to a halt in the middle aisle of the cafeteria where two groups of lengthy tables separated two different kinds of students.

On one side, Gumball's blue cat ears picked up a garbling of jokes and weird noises. Banana Joe and Tobias were still making armpit farts. The Eggheads, Ocho, and Bobert were seated a few spaces away from the other boys, talking amongst themselves and occasionally laughing in a way so gaudy, it would mortify a clown (or anyone with ears).

Gumball's lips stretched into an unamused smile. He turned to glance down the other table.

There, Penny was seated with Teri, Molly, Carmen, and Masami; all five were listening to Leslie as he finished talking about what sounded like gardening tips. Despite being a boy, Leslie was clearly comfortable amongst his group of choice, and the girls looked perfectly fine with having him there.

Gumball taped his foot for a few moments, thinking. It didn't take him long to decide where to move.

* * *

><p>"I think our routine's pretty much all set," Carmen said to the girls seated around her. "Penny, your finish at the last practice was perfect, and Teri, you and I both landed pretty easily together. I think we all got our landings down. So, Molly," she smiled to her dinosaur friend, "if you're okay with it, I think we should be good to go."<p>

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine with it," Molly said with a nod. "You've all been on my shoulders before and none of you are very heavy. I'll definitely be steady enough for Penny's landing."

"I think so, too," said Penny, placing down her fork. "We've been practicing this for three weeks now. I'm sure we'll do good at the Pep Fest, and even better at the game tonight. What do you think, Teri?"

The paper bear nodded, chewing some fruit. Swallowing, Teri answered, "I think we're ready. I'm not worried at all about our cheering, I know it's going to be great. It's the football field I'm more concerned about."

"Oh, come on, Teri," said Carmen, shaking her head, more encouragingly than belittling. "You're good with the crowds here at school. Why should you get stage fright in front of the larger groups?"

"I don't get stage fright, Carmen," said Teri, frowning. "At least, not like how I used to. You know I'm fine with cheering in front of crowds when you guys are with me. It's not the people I'm worried about, it's all the dirt and trash and germs on that field." Teri cringed, giving off a light shutter. Nervously, gripping her fork in both paper-thin hands, she went on, "Just the thought of them, squirming and crawling on the grass and benches: growing, multiplying, and infecting everything. The very thought of them makes me shake," and indeed, the soft-voiced paper girl started to tremble, looking most uncomfortable.

"Wow," Masami said bluntly, "_those_ are some real nice images." She dropped her fork onto the table. "Way to ruin someone's appetite, Teri."

Teri, now realizing the detail to which she had put her words, frowned regretfully, then stared gloomily down at her lap.

"Masami, cut it out!" Penny said, glaring. "You know how Teri feels about germs."

"Well, duh!" said the cloud girl. "Everyone knows she's a germ-a-phobe. Just today she told me there's more germs on a bus than there are on a toilet seat, and _I_ don't even sit on the bus seats. Seriously, she spreads the word of it almost as fast as actual germs. I'm just pointing it out, is all."

"And being insensitive, as usual," added Leslie, frowning with his leafy arms crossed.

"Oh, come on, Leslie," said Masami, shaking her head in a bemused fashion. "I'd figured _you_ would like jokes like that. You are a boy, after all."

"Like _that_ has to do with anything!" he retorted, looking away in irritation.

"Hey, hey, come on," Penny spoke gently, peacefully raising her hands to her friends. "Guys, let's not fight, please. It won't be good for our cheering if we're in a bad mood, and our school needs all the cheer we can offer tonight, from _all_ of us." Turning to Teri, Penny placed a hand on her small shoulder. "Teri, please, don't worry. I'm sure there won't be any germs that'll be real trouble. Just focus on your cheering. You're good at it and you love seeing others happy. It's one of things that make you a great cheerleader. So don't worry. Just play your part, encourage the crowd, and be happy and have fun, like we always do together. Right?"

Teri smiled, and responded with a nod to her good friend.

Carmen smiled proudly. "Penny, the way your spirit is, I sometimes wonder if _you_ should've been made cheer captain."

"Oh, no," Penny shook her head, beaming modestly. "I'm just there to cheer and help out. I don't have your brains or leadership to be captain."

"Well, with _your_ spirit," Carmen complimented, "you'd make a great substitute if ever the time —"

The rest of Carmen's sentence was cut off by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

All five girls and Leslie turned their sights toward the source. Gumball was standing beside the table.

"Hi, ladies. Hi, Leslie," he said with a small wave to them all. "Am I interrupting?"

"Uh, _yes_! Can't you see?" Masami said with annoyance, waving a stubby cloud arm to her silent group. "What do _you_ want, Gumball?"

Giving no notice that he had heard Masami's irritation, he replied, "I was just wondering if you guys had a couple minutes to spare so I could ask you all something, just a little question I'm having trouble with. Nothing school related or anything like that, just something that's been itching at my brain for a while." _A long while, actually_, Gumball finished in his head.

Masami still held that resentful look which implied that Gumball was little more a dirty insect who had crept onto their table. Leslie and the other girls, though, looked far more gentler and reasonable.

"Sure, Gumball," Penny said kindly. "Go ahead and sit down, if you want."

"Hey!" cried Masami, as Gumball sat down where Penny had motioned. "That's Carrie's spot!"

"But she's not here yet," Gumball replied matter-of-factly. "And why save her a seat, anyway? You know Carrie floats like you, right?"

"That doesn't matter!" and Masami's entire cloudy face darkened slightly. "If the question is short, why do you need to sit down to ask it?"

"Masami!" Penny cried, quite affronted. "Can't you be considerate for —"

"Never mind, Penny, it's okay," said Gumball, calmly waving his hand and getting to his feet again. "I guess Masami's got a point. I only need to ask you guys one question and it doesn't really matter whether I sit or not."

Keeping close enough to the table so that he would be heard, Gumball raised the same question he had asked Rachel a few short minutes ago, and again, he felt bored in asking it.

Leslie and the girls stared, not with blunt confusion, but with simple curiosity, not unlike the others Gumball had asked previous. Masami, however, proved unable to keep quiet her thoughts on the matter.

"What sort of stupid question is that?" she asked.

Gumball ignored her and focused on the classmates who, in his mind, were less arrogant in their thinking.

Carmen was the first to speak. "Are you, by any chance, referring to the dilemma in —"

"That one comedy movie?" Gumball finished for her. "Yeah, that movie."

"And . . ." said Molly, an eyebrow raised, "why exactly do you need to know this, Gumball?"

"Does it matter why I need to know?" he asked, because he was not eager to explain his little problem. In all normal regards, Penny's group (excluding Masami) were very sympathetic towards people and happily open-minded when it came to helping others; it was one of the reasons Gumball liked Penny so much. But still, he could understand their curiosity. A time loop wasn't exactly common, even in this crazy world where flowers talked and monkey teachers lived long past their expiration date.

Gumball stood there, watching Leslie and the girls think the question over. The sounds of chewing and utensils lightly touching lunch trays and bowls mingled in the background, and still the familiar scents made Gumball feel bored.

The sights, the sounds, the smells . . . the same old scenery, details, and actions . . . they were really starting to get old . . . .

** (Author's Note: Don't I know it…****)**

A couple moments later, Gumball glanced briefly over at the nearby wall clock, then replied to the group, "So, any ideas?"

"Um . . ." Penny hesitated. "Gumball, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, bored and almost absent-mindedly. "Just fine."

Penny didn't look very convinced, but apparently decided not to press the matter further. "If you ask me, Gumball," she said, "I would have to guess it would be because of something important."

Gumball had to keep himself from groaning. He hated feeling impatient with Penny, but he had heard this before from Anais, and Darwin, _and_ Rachel! Didn't _anyone_ have any original, _useful_ ideas?

"What I mean," continued Penny, who seemed to have noticed Gumball's exasperated look, "is that it might be something _personally_ important to you. You, and no one else. Perhaps," she paused and looked at Gumball, whose attention was now softer and more focused, "perhaps it might be about those _closest_ to you."

"Like my family?" asked Gumball.

"Yes," she answered. "I noticed Darwin's anger with you this morning, same with Anais when you guys got on the bus. Perhaps there's something you need to patch up with them, or . . . maybe there's something about your family you need to understand."

"Okay," he said calmly. "That might be good. What about the rest of you?"

Teri lifted a papery finger and stated, "I think it might be due to something you're overlooking, like germs." And she pinched her finger and thumb in midair, emphasizing her point, "Small, yet crucial for you to notice."

"So," said Gumball, taking the idea into account, "by overlooking, do you mean like something I've forgotten?"

"Not exactly," answered Teri. "I mean something you might not be giving enough attention to. Maybe something that doesn't seem as important as it is."

Gumball stood staring at the friendly paper bear, pondering her advice. It reminded him of his talks with Mr. Robinson: something he overlooked, something that he used to know but had, for whatever reason, let go.

"Yeah . . . good point," Gumball responded. "Only problem, though, is I don't know what it is I'm suppose to pay attention to."

"What about you, Molly?" asked Penny. "What do you think the reason might be?"

"Honestly, I really don't know," said Molly, tapping her chin with her large black hand (or is it hoof?). "I think both you and Teri make good points." Turning to Gumball, Molly said, "Gumball, if I were you, or whoever was stuck living the same day, I would stop to think about what's important and decide where to go from there."

"You mean," he said, "what's important to the person stuck? Penny already said that."

"I think what Molly means, Gumball," said Penny, "is the person who's stuck in the same day should understand what's important to him or herself and why, and then try to find out if that's got something to do with the problem. It would make sense, now that I think about it. I mean, if a person doesn't know what he or she prizes most, they probably don't know themselves very well and wouldn't be able to tell if something was wrong."

"I couldn't have put that better myself," Molly nodded in agreement.

"Speaking of perspective," Carmen cut in, "I think Teri's idea about paying attention is especially important. If it were me, I would take a good look at everything that's going on. I mean _really_ pay attention, not just to what's happening over and over, but what's significant about what's happening, like what a person says, or how they feel, or why they're doing what they're doing."

"Not to mention," said Leslie, who was smilingly thoughtfully, "there's so much one can do if they lived one day over and over. Why do the same old thing and get bored when you could do something different with each go around? Each day could be devoted to something worth doing. If it were me, I would take each day at a time, making each one worthwhile. I could become a professional gardener, botanist, _and_ carnivore coinsurer with all that time, and by the time everything was back on track, I would be years ahead of myself _and_ still have the years to enjoy. In other words," and Leslie picked up his slice of chocolate mint cake and held it out for Gumball to see, "you can both have your cake _and_ eat it, too."

Gumball couldn't help but smirk. The girls and Leslie all had good ideas, but as for having a cake and also eating it (if there really was any difference between the two actions), Gumball would have to say that his cake had long since gone stale. To have it would be to let it become more boring and pointless, and to eat it would be little more than chewing stale gum.

"What about you, Masami?" asked Molly. "What's your idea?"

Masami merely shrugged. "How would I know? The whole idea sounds stupid. I mean, what's the point? Just another stupid boy asking a stupid question."

"Masami!" Penny scolded. Leslie matched her expression with his crossed leafy arms, as did the other girls as they frowned at this rude comment.

"What?" Masami asked, as though she couldn't understand her friends' reactions. "It _is_ a stupid idea. I mean, being stuck in one day forever? Sounds more like someone who's depressed or living a miserable life." And then, in a voice that was both whiny and mockingly sad, she said, "'Oh, every day's the same, my life's going nowhere, nothing's ever going to get better.'"

Besides the annoyance he felt at her derisive tone, Masami's crude idea caused Gumball to think centuries back to that very first bad day: the farthest off in the Loop's long series, yet still the most painfully clear. He remembered the disappointment and heart-wrenching ache that day had avalanched onto him, and now felt thankful that he had decided not to eat any lunch, because the twinge that jutted through his stomach was enough to make him feel queasy and equally hollow.

"Well," said Gumball, clearing his throat to try and brush these thoughts aside, "Thanks for your thoughts, girls, and yours, too, Leslie. That's all I wanted to ask. See ya all around."

Gumball turned and took a few steps away from the group. Before he could get out of earshot, he was stopped by Penny's voice, "Hey, Gumball?"

He turned and looked back at her, his heart thumping hopefully that she might have thought of another idea to his problem.

"I'll see you at the Pep Fest, right?" she asked eagerly.

His heart's excitement fell. "Yeah," said Gumball simply. "Yeah . . . I'll be there."

He saw Penny beam, and with that, Gumball turned away again and felt the staleness he had been feeling all day return. The Pep Fest, the event which he had once so eagerly waited for, no longer pulled at his interest. It was like an old party that had long lost its life and energy. The thought of going again, and watching Penny and her friends perform their cheer routine (again), actually caused Gumball to feel bored, even more so than he already was.

Something _must_ be wrong with him, he thought. Him, Gumball? Bored with Penny?

Rubbing his shoulder where the Loop mark laid, Gumball took a few steps forward and was stopped by yet another voice.

"Hey, Gumball."

It was Carrie. And, to no surprise whatsoever, Gumball saw that she was carrying a plate with her large slice of chocolate mint cake, its green frosting smooth and creamy, and the dark brown cake smelling rich and sweet — same as always . . . .

"Are you okay, Gumball?" asked Carrie. "You look tired."

Gumball shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I am, a little." And sure enough, he let out a small yawn.

"Hmm. Well, I'm sure the Pep Fest will help with that."

_ I seriously doubt it_, Gumball thought in response.

"So...Gumball?" she said, raising her plate up slightly. But as Carrie made the request she had asked so many times before, Gumball's mind was suddenly churning again. The word 'Pep Fest' reminded him of Penny and what he had just finished asking her and her friends.

_ I might as well __ask her next__._

"Gumball?" said Carrie.

"Huh?" he asked abruptly, returning to his senses.

"Didn't you hear me?" she asked. "I asked if you'd help me-"

"Carrie, come on," said Gumball. He walked past her to the cafeteria's exit, waving his hand, motioning her to follow him. Once at the doors, he turned and saw that Carrie was still floating in the same spot. "Follow me," he called to her. "I have a question I want to ask you."

Carrie, looking a little surprised, floated after him, her dessert still held in her ghostly hands.

Outside in the hall, a fair distance from the cafeteria, Gumball stopped by his locker and was glad to see that the space wasn't busy or noisy with other students, even though their doings and chatter would've been something new to this heavy boredom he felt. Carrie stopped beside him, a few short inches above his eyelevel, her plate with her cake in one hand.

"What is it, Gumball?" she asked in her usual calm and friendly tone.

"Carrie, I want to ask you something, and it's going to sound weird, but just try and answer the best you can."

"I don't see how that should be a problem," she responded, flinging her bang in a fashion. "I mean . . . I'm pretty weird, as you probably know."

"Uh . . . yeah," said Gumball, a little weirded at Carrie's comment. "You're perfectly fine to me, though, Carrie, just to let you know. Anyway," he cleared his throat, and then repeated the same question he had already stated three times this morning, along with the dry statement, "And yes, I do mean like that one movie."

Carrie's expression remained still, though Gumball did notice her head tilt ever so slightly as she floated there. Setting her plate with her cake down gently on the not so clean (yet not so dirty) floor, Carrie spoke. "It sounds to me that you have a bit of a paranormal problem on your hands. A . . . time loop, I think it's called?"

"Yes!" Gumball cried, so happily that he didn't notice how loudly he spoke. "That's exactly what it is! Do you know how you'd get out?"

Carrie's soft, translucent face seemed to reflect her answer before she said it, her one visible eye looking sympathetic. "Sorry, but . . . I don't."

It was as though a pot of gold appeared in front of Gumball and then melted into soot — a second of beautiful, bright prospect; the next second, gone in a pile of soul-numbing ash.

The feeling must have shown in Gumball face, because Carrie held up her hands and quickly added, "But I have heard about it! I have a few ideas what might keep a person trapped in one day."

Gumball noted the amount of concern coming from Carrie, and his disappointment lessened, being replaced by a twinge of hope, as well as thankfulness towards the ghost girl.

"You probably know already that the problem must have something to do with the person stuck," said Carrie. "And finding out why is usually the way to get out."

"I know," said Gumball, his voice edged with slight impatience. He didn't want to sound rude to Carrie, but after hearing this from so many others, it was hard not to feel frustrated.

"And the answer to the problem," Carrie continued, as though she didn't hear Gumball's tone, "is usually on account of something that needs fixing or something that needs to be learned or remembered."

Gumball didn't say anything, but looked at Carrie intently. She was coming very close to what Mr. Robinson had detailed about time loops.

"But if all of those things are tried and nothing works, a person usually starts to feel hopeless and tired." Carrie paused and her expression softened considerably. "They go about living the same twenty-four hours again and again, wondering to themselves why they can't leave, why nothing changes for them. They might think that something is wrong with themselves, that they are the bringers of their own misery. Sometimes they may think something's wrong with the world itself, that it's being deliberately cruel and that everyone's against you. You feel trapped and alone. You feel lifeless, dead inside, alive only because of your beating heart."

Carrie paused again and stared dismally at the hallway floor. Her voice was now quite sad. "You call your very existence into question. You wonder if there's any meaning to your life, wonder if there's any point in going on."

Gumball stood there, silent, taking in each depressing phrase, each one was taking its toll on him. But strangely, he felt more concerned than depressed. Carrie, who normally liked keeping her feelings hidden beneath a goth-like demeanor, was now frowning with her head bowed, looking tired and miserable. If Gumball didn't know any better, he would've thought Carrie was about to cry.

"But then," Carrie raised her head to look at him, and her expression was steady once more, "you take another look at your life and see what it is you have. You have those closest to you, you have your home, you have your few simple but meaningful things, and you come to see . . . that that's enough for you."

Carrie looked directly into Gumball's eyes and started floating closer towards him.

"Even though you can't feel how others feel, even though you can't share the same joy that they do, you can still find happiness and meaning, from others, from your friends...from those you care about . . . from those . . . who make you feel . . ."

Carrie was now so close to Gumball that he could see the strands in her ghostly hair. There was also, he noticed, a kind of warm gentleness to her face and eyes that he had never seen before, except, perhaps, whenever he looked at Penny. Realizing that they were practically an inch apart, Gumball quickly took a long step backward, a strange burning rising through his face.

This action seemed to snatch Carrie's attention as well; from the looks of it, she only just realized that she had drifted so close. Gumball watched as her white cheeks turned a very slight but noticeable red.

The hallway was now so quiet that Gumball could hear a clock ticking faintly somewhere in the distance, or was that his own heartbeat?

For a while, Carrie didn't say anything. She rubbed her arm with her free hand, her face still holding that curious blush, looking somewhere between embarrassment and the desire to say something more.

"Carrie?" said Gumball, raising an eyebrow. "Are you okay?"

She opened her mouth, but all that came out were choked words, as though they were too difficult to say.

"Gumball . . ." she said in a soft voice, "I . . . I . . ."

Gumball stood waiting, his brain unable to comprehend what was going on. He had never seen Carrie behave like this.

From all the times Gumball had seen her before —whether it was on the bus, in class, or sitting close by him at lunchtime (to stare around and watch everyone else eat, no doubt) — Carrie had always been quiet, distant, and quite mellow. Gumball occasionally thought the result of her being born a ghost had given Carrie a kind of mindset that made her behave like this. But now Carrie was acting in a way that Gumball found somewhat unsettling. Granted, he always found the idea of ghosts being somewhat creepy, but Carrie, in his mind, had always just been a girl: maybe a little more blunt than Penny and her friends, not to mention a little darker with her love of the abnormal and the skull-shaped bow she wore in her white hair, but beyond that, Carrie had always been polite to him, good-natured and friendly.

Beyond that one "food frenzy" episode they experienced, he and her were on very good terms and viewed each other as friends. As such, Gumball was now growing concerned that Carrie, like himself, might have a problem of her own that was eating away at her.

"Carrie? Is there something you want to talk about?" he asked a little uneasily, not too certain he really wanted to know.

The ghost girl's cheeks actually burned redder. "I . . ." and then, in a rather quick voice, she said, "I think maybe you should accept it."

Gumball blinked at the suddenness of her response. "Huh?"

"You said you wanted to know what might be keeping someone in a time loop?"

Gumball nodded.

"Well," she said, "maybe you just have to accept that that's how it's going to be. Like how I have to accept that I can't eat . . . or feel like others do . . . or —"

"Are you _joking_?" Gumball demanded of her. "Accept it? Accept that nothing's ever going to change? You expect me to just sit around and pretend that everything's fine and smile that nothing new will ever happen?"

Carrie flinched at his shouting. "No!" she said, almost panicky. "I was just — just trying to help . . ."

Gumball frowned, and stiffly said, "Well, sorry, but I don't think keeping to myself and 'accepting' is going to do me much good. I need an answer to my problem, not a sedative. I can't just be some weirdo who hangs out and watches everyone else be happy while I float around, feeling all depressed and lifeless and —"

Gumball froze, his eyes widening, only just realizing what he had said. But it was too late; the damage was already done. Carrie floated there, stunned, looking as though she had just been slapped. Slowly, her shocked face drifted into misery, like she had just lost the last bit of happiness she had to cling to.

"No!" Gumball shook his hands frantically. "Carrie, no! I didn't mean you! I just —"

"No, you're right," her voice cracked, and Gumball could see an opaque tear forming in her visible eye. "I'm sorry," she bowed her head, her voice becoming raspy. "I know I'm not very fun, or pretty, or as popular as Penny, but . . . but I . . ."

She looked into Gumball's eyes again, almost pleading, her soul trying to express what she was too shy to say. Gumball could felt guilt towering inside him, for being the one to make Carrie feel this way.

"I'm sorry," Carrie said again softly, wiping away her emerging tear, her face trembling. "Just forget what I said."

The quiet, uncomfortable atmosphere that had built up in the time they had talked did not die away when they both heard a loud RIIIIIIIIING. The school bell went silent again, signaling the next phase in the school day and, sure enough, Gumball heard the cafeteria doors open from down around the corner. His classmates were leaving to head for Study Hall.

Gumball turned back to thank Carrie for her attempts at help, with the hope that it might make her feel better. But when he turned back, he saw that he was too late. Carrie had already started floating away, her head bowed.

Gumball looked to the floor and saw the untouched cake. He quickly picked up the plate and, without really thinking, he held it out and called, "Carrie! You forgot your cake!"

Carrie paused in midair and looked over her shoulder at him. Depression and misery was etched on her face, as was a long tear, flowing gently down her cheek. She didn't look offended, just sad; a tiny part of her even looked touched by this act of consideration on Gumball's behalf, but Gumball felt worse now, believing he may have insulted Carrie by offering her a treat that she could neither taste nor eat.

Gumball watched with a heavy heart as Carrie turned and drifted cheerlessly away. He stood there, ignorant of the other classmates as they passed by him, heading towards the library. Once the hall was clear again, Gumball gave a long sad sigh, then replied, with a shake of his head, "Girls . . . ."

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><p><strong>All comments welcome, positive or negative. The next chapter will be up very soon, in 24 hours if I'm lucky.<strong>


	17. Asking Around, PART IV

**Here's the last of the "Asking Around" chapters. Sorry if the information hunt has been boring.**

**DISCLAIMER: ****I OWN NOTHING**** from **_**The Amazing World of Gumball**_**, including characters, places, or any other references that may appear in this story; not a thing.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 17<strong>

_Asking Around ~~ PART IV_

After returning Carrie's slice of cake to the cafeteria, and receiving a tiny glare from Anais as he crossed by her in the lunch line, Gumball made his way to the library. Upon entering, he found his classmates spread out and working on their current projects. Gumball, on the other hand, had no intention of doing any work on his unplanned, still-nowhere-near-started writing assignment.

Instead, he hopped into the empty computer chair next to where Bobert was typing away numbers and asked, for what seemed like the 400th time, what he had been asking people all day, feeling bored as he did it, as though it were a clichéd line in a movie script.

"Hmm . . ." Bobert hummed in his robotic voice. "A chronological reversion and preservation of memory . . ." This was all Gumball heard and understood before he got lost in a scientifically complicated mess of jumbled vocabulary.

From what little Gumball could discern, Bobert gave a brief, and very complex, description on how light and space worked and how being in a so-called time loop would render all existence decimated and meaningless, because each universe of the person who's stuck would be destroyed at the end of each day, and thus there would be no point trying to get out, or living for that matter.

Gumball, having given up on trying to understand, got up from his chair and walked off as Bobert continued talking with his metal back turned, going off reason after reason on the effects of time loops, to which, as far as Gumball could tell, Bobert did not believe were at all possible.

Next, Gumball went to the Eggheads, who were browsing amongst the bookshelves in the psychology section. Though their ideas were somewhat as abstract as Bobert's, they did, at least, speak in a way that Gumball could understand (at least moderately).

"All right, pay attention, lesser mind," said the one without glasses.

"Yes," said the twin egg who did wear glasses, "while we are plainly aware that your comprehension of the English language is much more worthy than the majority of the other dimwits in our grade, you will want to pay precise attention as we give our ideas, which your hideously tiny brain will hardly be able to translate into what ever pitiful modern English you have stowed in the messy gym locker you call a mind. Are you ready or should we wait to give you a couple minutes to massage your temples?"

Gumball frowned, and, deeply irritated, said, "You know what? Never mind. How about, instead, you two wrap your minds around why nobody likes you. If you can figure _that_ out, then maybe I'll come and ask again!"

Walking away from the Eggheads, who scratched their noggins, wondering what they could've said to offend him, Gumball pushed the library door open and headed back down the hall.

A part of Gumball scolded himself for stubbornly brushing off the arrogant nerds, but he couldn't help it. Coupled with his bewildering chat with Carrie, Gumball's patience was seriously starting to deplete. He was in no mood to have his intelligence insulted when, for the first time, he truly wished he really was smarter than the slightly below-average student.

_ Bobert didn't know and he's smarter than both those two nerds combined_, Gumball thought. They wouldn't know what it is. Given how they behave, they'd probably make it out to be some hallucination, then top it all off with insults on how Gumball would be stupid enough to experience it.

Gumball turned a corner in the hallway and passed by Mr. Small's office, which he noticed, as he passed, was dark and shaded due the counselor still being occupied in the cafeteria, taking down guesses for the Pep Fest's coffee bean challenge.

"52,691," Gumball said aloud, just for the sake of it. As he did, his memory did another twist.

Mr. Small had been the very first person Gumball had asked about the time loop. At the time, Gumball had no idea what was going on until Mr. Robinson explained it to him hours after, and had first turned to the school counselor who, in Gumball's opinion, was in greater need of counseling than anyone else.

_ No use going to him_, Gumball told himself. He distinctively remembered Mr. Small suggesting a therapy group — a pointless and stupid idea, seeing as Gumball literally didn't have the time nor the reason (seeing as nothing was wrong with him).

He also recalled Mr. Small saying that depression and boredom might have something to do with the experience Gumball was having.

Well, Gumball thought, he was definitely starting to feel bored from the Loop, and he supposed it was getting a little depressing, but wasn't that to be expected? After all, reliving the same day was like watching the same TV episode over and over for two months straight, or counting 52,000 coffee beans one piece at a time.

_ Still . . ._ Gumball thought grimly as he stopped in front of a classroom door, _I would much more prefer Mr. Small over this . . ._

Gumball pushed the door and stepped inside the classroom. He gave a small wave and said, "Hey."

"Watterson!" Miss Simian declared in her shrill, annoyed voice. She was seated at her desk. "Why aren't you in Study Hall? Class doesn't start for another 20 minutes!"

"Yeah, I know, but I need to ask you something."

"If it's about your brother's grade, forget it!" she pounded her hairy fist on her desk, causing pencils and a few other objects to rattle. "You should've known better and checked his name twice last Friday instead of staring off into space as you —"

"I'm not here for that," Gumball cut across her.

"You're not?" said Miss Simian, looking surprised. "Then what do you want?"

Gumball moved closer to his teacher's desk and conveyed to her his question about time loops. To no surprise, she frowned at him with that look teachers only give to their least favorite students, especially when they deliberately ask something stupid and unrelated to the topic of discussion.

"What dimwitted question is that?" Miss Simian asked with a frown.

"A question I need answered," he said, trying not to sneer in aggravation.

"Why?"

"Just curious," Gumball lied. "So, what do you think?"

Miss Simian's hairy face remained stony. She stared down with those faded yellow eyes, her thin lips pressed in a hard, deep frown. Gumball wasn't the least bit afraid (the Loop being the one to thank for that), though he couldn't shake the discomfort he got every time Miss Simian looked at him like this. It was like being stared down at by an unkempt, beady-eyed vulture, hungrily watching an insect.

Finally, Miss Simian spoke in her usual scratchy, yet clear tone. "I think, in all my 300,000 years of teaching, no student has ever asked me a more stupid, pointless question. Not even your father."

Gumball had expected to hear something like this. With a sigh, he asked again. "Please, Miss Simian. Just give your best guess. There's no wrong answer."

"If I _must_ answer," she said, "I'd say it's probably _your_ fault somehow. Maybe because of your terrible memory or lack of consideration for things like your homework. Wouldn't surprise me. I mean," she scoffed, "why else would you forget your own brother's name?"

Offended by this cold remark, Gumball backed up to his assigned desk and sat down hard in the seat, frowning bitterly at his teacher. Miss Simian remained in her own desk, trying to outmatch Gumball's challenging look by furrowing her wrinkly face, exposing her long plaster-colored teeth. Gumball couldn't help but feel some satisfaction that he was vexing the teacher who had, for so long, tormented him and Darwin, as well as his mother and father in their school years.

How many students, he wondered, had done what he was doing now? Had his own mother sat here once and stared coldly at the ancient teacher? And Gumball also wondered, that _if_ he will ever have children of his own, if this would be what they had to look forward to.

How many more people would relive this moment which so many others had done before? Would they fare any better, or was the experience the exact same, with only a different appearance, name, and occasion? People, Gumball knew, grew up and moved on from unpleasant memories like an embittered monkey giving you the stink-eye, but to know that those born down the line would relive what you experienced . . . it seemed to make the Loop feel more disturbingly tangible, as well as make that monkey all the more ugly . . .

Miss Simian must've gotten used to doing it by now; she had lived for thousands of years. With dread filling his heart, Gumball anxiously wondered . . . how many more years, how many more centuries did _he_ have of looking at this monkey?

He ignored the heavy tingling coming from the mark on his shoulder, trying it seemed, to answer his dreadful question for him.

* * *

><p>Gumball's hand was pressed to his tired face, his mouth slightly open, his elbows bent on his knees, and his eyes drooping sleepily as the students around him cheered, rooting for the football players and the active sensation the Pep Fest brought over the school. All of it was playing out like a mechanical puppet show, and he, Gumball, was the only puppet not participating in the performance.<p>

Upon dismissal, Gumball walked quickly past everyone, dodging Penny without giving her a side glance, and approached Rocky near one of the gym's exits.

"Hey, Gumball," said the orange school worker. "Want some candy? There's a little left in the bag," he motioned towards the black trash bag that carried the stuff he had tossed around the gym during the Pep Fest's opening. Gumball absently recalled feeling a glo-stick hit him on the side of the head.

"No, thanks," he said blandly.

"You sure?" asked Rocky. "You sure look like you could use it. Maybe your little sister or brother might —"

"Just listen, please," Gumball said, a slight edge to his voice, and then he blah-de-dahed the same question he had asked all day.

Rocky smiled, "Hey, that reminds me of one my favorite movies!"

"Who would've guessed?" Gumball responded tiredly. "So?"

Rocky merely shrugged. "I don't really know. If I were you, though, Gumball, I wouldn't worry about stuff like that. Just lose that frown and enjoy the party. After all, it won't do you any good to frown, not when everyone else is having a good time."

Smiling, Rocky held out a handful of candy for Gumball to take with him. Frowning, with no trace of gratitude, Gumball shook his head. Giving a mild, friendly shrug, Rocky gripped the bag with the leftover treats and hurried out of the gym to the parking lot so he could drive the school bus.

His brow furrowed and his frown deep, Gumball stamped out of the school and passed the bus that would take him home. He headed, instead, down the sidewalk and into the business side of the city. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw people look nervously back at him as he passed. A mother pulled her child close to her, looking fearful. A large, hefty jogger dressed in purple sweats jumped hurriedly to the side after getting close enough to see Gumball's expression. Not long into this hotheaded strut, a police officer shaped like a frosted donut stopped him on the sidewalk by obstructing his path.

"Is there a problem, young man?" he asked, an eyebrow raised, apparently trying to intimidate Gumball.

"If you have to have to ask," said Gumball, through gritted teeth, "yeah. I'm hungry, and I'm in the mood for donuts. Interested in helping me out?"

The police officer looked aghast and quickly stepped aside to let Gumball pass.

He pressed on, not caring in the slightest what anyone thought of him. The day had been utterly disappointing and his patience was now completely run out. He had no interest in anything now except his problem; a building could burn to the ground and he wouldn't care to look. Why should he? He'll have plenty of time to be nice, and pleasant looking, and considerate when he knew how to get out this rut.

Gumball walked roughly through the doors of Laser Video and up to Larry who was standing behind the counter, a small white bandage covering the side of his large rock head.

"Oh, hey, Gumball," Larry smiled, wincing a little at the pain from his morning accident. "What can I do for you?"

His face as stony as Miss Simian's, Gumball explained. "And yes," he added lastly with irritation, "just like that one movie!"

"Well," said Larry, "if you ask me, the key to getting out of daily repetition is improvement. Maybe you could do something to help others as much as yourself, like doing chores or being there to help others."

"Anything else?" Gumball asked, not at all satisfied.

If Larry did have anything else to add, it was cut off when the phone sitting by the cash register started to ring. Larry picked up the receiver and said, "Yeah, boss?"

A moment passed with muffled speech coming from the receiver's other end. Larry grimaced and glanced nervously over his shoulder towards the security camera, the one aiming straight at his head. "No, sir, I'm not chatting on the job, I'm just answering a question a customer has."

Another few seconds passed.

"No, it's not movie or game related. Although, I guess it's kind of about that one movie where —"

Whatever else Larry said, Gumball didn't stick around to hear. He turned his back and walked out of the store, feeling grumpier by the second.

He crossed the sunny streets, turned corners on the sidewalk, and walked down the neighborhood paths that lead towards his house. As he walked down the sidewalk, Gumball could feel a headache coming on, becoming more achy as he grumbled with anger.

Deciding that enough was enough, Gumball slowed his pace, then closed his eyes and breathed slowly through his nose, trying stubbornly to calm down. This technique, which he had learned from his mother, to his surprise and delight, worked again, as it had done that morning. The strain from asking the same question all day lessened more and more as he passed the houses that lined the way to his own.

Rocky must've driven by already, as Gumball couldn't hear the school bus roaming around the blocks. He knew, however, that it couldn't have been too long ago. Gumball had stayed in Laser Video to question Larry for little more than a minute, and afterwards walked quickly across the city blocks to the suburbs.

Would his mother be angry that he didn't arrive home on the bus? Would he walk in to find her seated on the couch like an angry lion, ready to give him the lecture he denied her that morning?

Shaking his head, Gumball tried to stay calm and on track. He still had two last people to ask. If he could just get his parents to stay cool enough for a few short minutes, then maybe he might still get somewhere.

A few steps farther, Gumball found himself in front of the walkway of his house. Taking a deep breath and steadying himself for whatever attitude his mother was undeniably in, he stepped forward, walked up the porch steps, and opened the front door.

The first thing he heard when he entered the living room was his mother. "Gumball."

As he had predicted, she was seated on the couch. She didn't sound angry, at least not entirely. There was that slight bit of disappoint Gumball had heard before, but there was also a kind of attempt at calmness to her tone. "I need to talk to you."

"So do I," said Gumball, happy that he could ask his mother first. "It will only take a minute. Listen —"

"I will, _after_ you've listened to me," Nicole said, holding up her hand to silence her son. Looking in her other hand, Gumball noticed the broken, poorly glued china plate he had broken hundreds of years ago.

With a sigh, and a slightly bored sensation running through him, Gumball stood where he was and listened to his mother, who stood up from the couch and began.

"Gumball," she said heavily. "I cannot lie to you when I say that I am quite disappointed. I'd like to think I had made myself perfectly clear to you and the others. These plates," she held up the broken saucer, "have been in my family for three generations, and ever since my great-grandmother were given them as a gift, they have survived through years of handling and relocating, never getting so much as a stain _or_ scratch. Yet, despite what I told all of you yesterday, you took one and were so careless as to break it! And what's worse, you tried to hide it away and not tell me! It might only be one of many, but these plates are a family heirloom, a treasure that I plan on giving to you one day!"

She could've sounded much more angry than was and Gumball still wouldn't have felt as uncomfortable, or as shamefaced.

"So, that comes to my only question, Gumball," said Nicole, crossing her arms. "Why, after what I told you and the others yesterday, did you take something so precious to our family and break it?"

Gumball stared at his mother, empty for an answer. From the looks of it, Nicole would stand there all night until she heard what she wanted; her face was calm, and her posture still and solid as a stone statue. What was more, Gumball realized, for the first time since it happened, that he really had no explanation for the incident. From what he could hardly make out from that Sunday, he had simply been hungry for a quick snack and grabbed the closest thing he could find to hold his cookie.

Gumball explained this aloud, but was unable to explain why he didn't think twice before grabbing the plate. Knowing full well how she would act once he told her, Gumball also said, "I couldn't remember you ever telling us about the plates."

Nicole's mouth fell open a little, as though this comment surprised her. Her eyebrows began to fall, her fiery glare coming to the offence. Before she could say anything, though, Gumball quickly added, "I know that it doesn't make sense! I know! Mom, I don't know why I couldn't remember what you told us, I just couldn't! My mind must've been somewhere else when you said all that stuff. I'm sorry! I really am! I didn't _try_ to break your plate, I just did it kind of quickly, and . . ."

Gumball could say no more, because there was nothing left to say. He had no memory of anything at all on Sunday, nor did he much remember the simple late-night snack that had caused his mother to become so angry. What did it matter to apologize? The plate was broken and would remain broken forever, because he can't turn the clock back far enough to fix what was done. He had nothing, nothing except the old, worn-out question that burned to be asked again. All he could hope for now was that his mother would be kind enough to listen and answer as best she could. But first, he would let her have her say and get the worst over with. He waited.

Nicole didn't say anything at first. The living room was quiet except for the small muffled sounds coming from upstairs, where Richard, Darwin, and Anais undoubtedly were.

Finally, she spoke, "Gumball . . . I don't understand. How could you have forgotten? Can't you remember _anything_ I said yesterday?"

Gumball felt almost ashamed in admitting it. "No."

"I see," said Nicole softly, not with anger, but very clear disappointment. "Well . . . I hope for your sake, Gumball, that you learn to pay better attention in the future. You don't have much chance if you can't even look back on your actions and use them to better yourself. What we do today makes our tomorrows; what good can you expect if no effort is given, no attention or care?"

Gumball lowered his head. All the frustration that piled up from today's unsuccessful attempts to find answers felt a hundred times worse now, the one difference being that it was now directed towards himself. His mother really knew how to make him feel guilty . . . .

"Honey," she said softly, all of a sudden, and Gumball looked up at her in surprise. How long had it been since he heard his mother speak to him like that?

"Gumball," said Nicole, and face showed the utmost gentleness, "I know you're better than this. I have faith in you, and I know deep down that you meant no harm. All I'm asking is that you take a harder look next time, see what's important and make your decisions from that. What you decide to do is up to you; nobody can tell you otherwise. I just don't want to see you struggling for no reason. You're a very good person and deserve to be happy. Just, please, try thinking a little better next time. If you do, I'm sure everything will go all right."

Nicole looked warmly at her son and gave him a small, delicate smile. It was beautiful to behold. "Now then, you said there was something you wanted to ask me?"

Gumball stared at her, his mind rolling with the words she had spoken to him. He thought over what he wanted to ask, and strangely, the whole thing felt rather silly right now.

"No, Mom," Gumball shook his head. "It's not important, forget it."

What was he doing? Why was he skipping her? His mother, besides Anais and Darwin, was probably the most knowledgeable about him that he could think of. But . . . no. Instinct told Gumball that she didn't know. But how, he asked himself. How could he possibly know without asking?

Like so much else, there was no answer. All that Gumball had was a feeling, a powerful certainty that couldn't be logically explained.

Again, he said, "It's nothing to worry about, Mom. I'm sure I'll figure it out myself."

Nicole considered this for a moment, perhaps to insist that her son asks what it was he wanted. Finally, she said, "Okay, then. Well, I better get busy with dinner."

She walked toward the kitchen with her broken plate held gently in both hands.

"Would you like some help?" Gumball asked.

Nicole turned and looked back at her son, a soft smile still on her face. "No, that's all right, sweetie. Go upstairs and rest for a while. You kind of look like you had a long day."

She walked in through the kitchen's doorway, leaving Gumball alone in the living room. For a moment he stood there, still watching the place where his mother disappeared, her smile and her words still clear in his thoughts.

He headed upstairs and knocked on his parents' bedroom door. After being let inside, he quickly asked his father what he thought about time loops. To no surprise, Richard didn't know what he would do, except go about it and hope for the best in the end. Gumball didn't feel disappointed at all, but merely thanked his father for his opinion and walked out.

"Oh, and Dad!" said Gumball, peering back into his parents' room, remembering.

"Yeah, son?" asked Richard.

"I'm sorry I ignored you this morning. Your new tie looks really nice," and Gumball left, leaving his father who smiled thankfully.

* * *

><p>The evening passed by steadily without much fuss. Darwin was still bitterly silent and Anais sourly grumpy, but Gumball wasn't affected by them anymore. He had lived this day too many times for his sibling's behavior to cause him any real gloom. And besides, at least his parents were in better spirits. Richard had put on his new red necktie again and was eating happily. And Nicole . . . Nicole was the best of all. She ate calmly with a relaxed poise, all attitude from this morning completely gone. She was even smiling at her son . . . .<p>

Gumball, meanwhile, ate only half-heartedly at his baked macaroni and cheese. While his mother's affection felt inexplicably wonderful - to the point where he couldn't understand how - this day had, sadly, not gone as Gumball had hoped. All that he got out of everyone were ideas with no solid answers. He may very well have been taking a test with nothing but rationale guesses about how best to answer the questions. And while they were certainly good ideas, Gumball couldn't draw any real clues from them.

Thinking back on all of them, Gumball felt quite overwhelmed as they stacked up:

Multiple dimensions, someone else pulling the strings, improving oneself due to a problem. Personal importance and family, paying attention, deciding on what's important and going on from that. Particular importance behind actions, having a cake and eating it (which still didn't make sense), and a depressed person's dilemma. Accepting his lot, paradoxes and conundrums, a bad memory, stopping and enjoying the party, being helpful to others.

Gumball closed his eyes and breathed silently through his nose, relieving the dull pain that began to build from the overload of ideas.

Let's see . . . lastly, there was his mother, whom he decided to skip and not knowing why. Then his father, who told him just to roll with the problem and hope for the best.

Gumball prodded the macaroni on his plate and thought as he chewed his dinner, trying to piece together what everyone had said, not really tasting the food at all.

Gumball's head felt somewhat numb as he walked upstairs for bed that night. Darwin spent a few measly seconds brushing his teeth, then slammed his toothbrush back into the cup before walking past Gumball to their bedroom without looking at him.

Gumball entered the bathroom and picked up his toothbrush. Before he reached for the toothpaste, however, he pulled on the collar of his sweater and glanced down at his shoulder. The mark of the Loop was still vividly black on his blue fur. It was silly to think why, but Gumball had secretly hoped that, maybe, with all this searching for answers, the mark would've faded a little, become less dark.

Of course, it didn't. It was still there, lifeless but present, like a pair of glasses staring back at him, its eyes eerily vacant.

Again, Gumball thought of all the people he had talked to today, focusing this time not on what they said to him, but rather on the people themselves. His brother, who started off so friendly and then became so livid. Rachel, snooty, yet not entirely unkind. Penny, beautiful, courteously giving her best advice, as did her group of considerate, sweet friends (excluding Masami, of course). Carrie, whose words and expressions still baffled Gumball. What had all that blushing been about? Then Bobert and the Eggheads, then Miss Simian, Rocky, and Larry, whose advice was short and all in different attitudes.

Then his mother, whom he didn't ask but, for some reason, felt didn't have to. And finally his father, whom Gumball wondered was worth asking at all.

With a sigh, Gumball placed his toothbrush back into the cup and left the bathroom, not realizing, as he left, that he forgot to brush his teeth.

Under his covers and dressed in his nightshirt and shorts, Gumball laid quietly in the dark. Darwin's eyes were closed behind his fishbowl, the alarm clock's numbers were shining bright green, counting up the minutes, and he, Gumball, was slowly drifting away.

His final thoughts for this Monday were filled with questions, all of them vague and without much harmony. Now that he had questioned every close person he could think of, what was he going to do now? Where was he going to go with his search? How will the next few days play out?

The lack of answers felt very unpleasant, so much that Gumball didn't even look forward to falling asleep, because all that awaited him the next time he opened his eyes would be the blank, lightly textured ceiling of his bedroom and the irritating buzz that only his alarm clock could sputter out.

Frowning drearily at the day ahead, Gumball closed his eyes and rolled onto his side, pressing his shoulder with the Loop mark into his bed sheets, right as it started to feel funny.

* * *

><p><strong>As usual, all comments, positive or negative, are welcome. We're moving on into the chapters where Gumball starts becoming enlightened, if so vaguely. I'm not quite done with the story just yet, though. See you all next time with Chapter 18!<strong>


	18. The Lost Days, PART I

**I know these monthly intervals are getting ridiculous, but this chapter…man, ****was it a rough trip****. If it had been a mountain, I would've broken every bone trying to reach the top.**

**If you, my faithful readers, don't mind me asking, do any sentences not roll off the tongue smoothly? Does it feel like you hit a bump or few when you read them? I know I may have asked this before, but there's a difference between a reader reading the story and the writer reading the story. It's funny, isn't it?**

**DISCLAIMER: ****I OWN NOTHING**** from **_**The Amazing World of Gumball**_**, including characters, places, or any other references that may appear in this story ****—**** not a thing.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 18<strong>

_The Lost Days  
><em>_PART I_

He rolled again onto his side, wincing slightly as he did.

He did not open his eyes but laid quiet, breathing gently through his nose, trying to ignore the stiffness his mattress had suddenly taken.

His blue cat ears twitched anxiously. At any moment he would hear the loud buzzing, be dragged from heavenly sleep, and hurled back into the never-ending day — the infinite, dead-end world called Existence. Meanwhile, he very much wished that the Sun would do him the courtesy and stop shining so brightly. He could see the beams' faded glow through his closed eyelids and found the paleness of it rather discomforting.

Wincing, his eyes still shut, he rolled again onto his other side and laid there, listening expectantly.

The minutes dragged on for what seemed like hours, the dead quiet everywhere, and it was only as the silence continued did Gumball slowly realize that something was wrong.

The light coming through his eyes wasn't golden like the morning sunlight he knew so well. It was white — faint, though positively white. What was more, his bunk bed was positioned in the corner of his room where the golden sunny square, made through his window, could not shine upon; it was too far for the light to reach. And there was something else. . . . The silence surrounding Gumball was misplaced . . . inaccurate. From the very beginning, as far back as he could remember, it had always been his alarm clock that woke him each day. And yet . . . he was obviously awake right now. Though he couldn't be . . . not if the alarm clock hadn't sounded. . . .

This logic hit Gumball's brain like an electric stab and his eyes shot open. At once, he winced with pain and brought his hand up to his face, shielding it against the blinding, stinging light. His nerves fired like mad, all sleep leaving as he scrambled onto his feet. But even this didn't make sense.

The surface on which Gumball now stood felt very solid and much too wide to be his bunk bed; he could no longer feel his blankets and pillow.

Slowly and carefully, he opened his eyes, waiting for them to adjust with the brightness, all the while fighting the small panic that thudded through his heart.

Gumball could feel that he was still dressed in his nightclothes and that he seemed to be standing on the floor. It was hard and flat — in no way resembling his bedroom's soft carpet.

Squinting, the light still too bright, Gumball called out, "Darwin?" in a volume loud enough to wake his sleeping brother.

No answer came. Gumball tried again, louder, "Darwin?"

Still no response.

_ He can't _still_ be mad at me_, Gumball thought. _Not yet at least . . . I mean, if the day's started over. . ._ But as the next few seconds passed, Gumball's sight returned and everything was explained — somewhat.

The reason Darwin hadn't answered back was because he wasn't there in the room. In fact, Gumball discovered, shock flooding his face, that he himself was no longer inside his bedroom.

He was standing instead in a long fluorescent lit hallway, the walls lined with lockers and matching doors. A glass trophy case rested against the wall on one side, while on the other hung a collection of drawings and paintings made from art classes.

Dumbstruck, Gumball stared down the hall. How on earth could he be here? How could he have left his bedroom and walked to school in the middle of the night? He wasn't a sleepwalker . . . at least, he didn't think so. . . .

Strangely enough, it didn't feel like it was nighttime. Though he couldn't tell due to the brightness of the hall, Gumball was willing to bet, deep in his fidgeting gut, that he was in the middle of a school day. Disregarding this, there was still the inexplicable question of how and why he was here in the first place.

The surroundings of Elmore Junior High felt peculiar to Gumball. There was no temperature to the air — it felt neither warm nor cool, but simply existent. There was no sound except for Gumball's quiet breathing and shifting feet. And, as far as Gumball could tell from where he stood, there was no one else there with him. The whole school had the eerie sense of being vacant.

To see if this were true, Gumball rushed to the nearest classroom and jumped up to peer inside through the door's window. What he saw made even less sense.

There was nothing inside the classroom — literally nothing. Where the chalkboard, desks, and tiny bookshelves should've been, there was only a pure white space. Even the walls, floor and ceiling were gone, as though the light from outside the window was so blindingly bright that not even the window frames were visible. It was very much like staring into the sun, without the pain.

"Okay . . ." Gumball said to himself. "This just got a lot freakier."

Dropping back onto the floor, Gumball ran to the door neighboring the one he checked. The room inside held the same scene: pure white nothingness where not even a shadow lay.

Curious, Gumball grabbed the door's handle and tried to open it. The handle shifted downward, but the door wouldn't pull out. Gumball fastened his grip and pulled back as hard as he could, his teeth clenching, but still the door remained shut.

Stepping back to the hall's center, Gumball looked down both directions, his breathing and footsteps still the only sounds to reach his ears.

What was going on here? He couldn't have overslept, could he? No . . . he couldn't have. It wouldn't explain how he got here, and besides, the Loop had been resolute since the beginning; surely it wouldn't choose now of all moments to make an exception. Unless. . . .

Quickly, daring to hope, Gumball tugged back on his nightshirt's collar and peered down at his shoulder. There, since who-knows-when, was the black sideways eight that symbolized Gumball's entrapment by the time loop. It was as black as ever, like an ink stain on the blue fur.

Sighing in disappointment, Gumball let go of his shirt's collar. In that one brief second of possibility, he had hoped that, though confused as he was, he might have done something to escape the cycle he had been forced to live in for long. But of course, as _his_ luck would have it, the Loop wasn't going to let him go that generously.

Running his hand down his face, Gumball rubbed both his eyes and stared again down the hall's two directions.

So. . . . He was still in the Loop . . . and he was at school . . . in his nightclothes. . . . And what sense was there to be had from that?

No idea forming, Gumball, without really thinking why, started towards Miss Simian's classroom. Maybe he was supposed to be somewhere right now. Maybe he was late for class. . . .

What time was it, anyway?

He turned the corner and again there was absolutely no one in sight. There was, however, the clock on the wall, and Gumball could distinctively hear it ticking (quite slowly). He stepped closer to it and looked up.

The clock read 12:40.

He would be in Study Hall at this time, with five minutes until the bell rang for the afternoon classes.

To further confirm this, Gumball walked towards Miss Simian's classroom door and looked inside. This time, he could see the classroom's interior and contents: the desks, all neatly filed; Miss Simian's small desk with the chalkboard behind it; the classroom's own personal clock, it too reading 12:40; and lastly, the long windows with the familiar, sunlit scenery showing through the glass. All that was normally there _was_ there, except for the students and teacher.

Now certain of where he should to go, Gumball turned and headed back the way he came, giving the clock on the wall one final glance before turning the corner. Its stick-like hands were still at 12:40. . . .

The steps he took were so integrated into his memory that Gumball could've walked the path blindfolded. In no time at all he arrived outside the library. Beside the door he glanced the sign which forbad food and drink. It, too, was imprinted on his memory.

What was written beneath it, however, wasn't...

**Remember: Don't Forget**

For several moments Gumball stared at these words, puzzling not so much over what they obviously said, but the mere presence of them. Thinking back on all the times he entered the library, both before and after getting stuck in the Loop, he had never, in all those times, seen this message.

So how could it be here now?

He reached out to the sign and slid his fingers across the word 'Remember'. For a moment, Gumball expected the black ink to smear onto his blue hand, but when he brought it back, he found his fingers tips to be clean. The writing was part of the sign, not some note someone had recently painted on. As for the message itself. . . .

Remember? Don't forget? Wasn't that just the same message written twice? Remember what? Don't forget what, that these words had always been here but invisible up until now?

Gumball stood waiting as though expecting the sign to make an answer appear in the white space below.

"Remember . . . don't forget," Gumball murmured.

For a little while more, Gumball stood in front of the library's entrance, rubbing his shoulder and rereading this message over again in his head, neither forgetting it nor remembering anything through it.

Not becoming any more enlightened, and rather annoyed that he was just standing there, staring at some bizarre message, Gumball reached for the door's bar-like handle and pushed it. The door opened and he entered the library.

At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but then Gumball stopped and looked hard at the scene before him. Again, all sense seemed to have been sucked out from the world.

The large book-filled room was very quiet — even more so than usual — apart from the sluggish, deep ticking of a distant clock.

There were also people present, the familiar faces. Only . . . none of them were moving . . . .

At the library's center, the small, shrub-like librarian looked as though she were frozen in mid-step. Close by, William, the flying winged eyeball, hung in midair like a creepy Christmas ornament suspended on an invisible string. And over beside a bookshelf, Tina was standing behind the Eggheads, her razor-sharp teeth set in a permanent evil sneer, ready to spook the unsuspecting nerds who seemed to be having a conversation where one egg listened and the other held his mouth to one syllable.

Gumball gawked at this phenomenon. It was as though he wandered into a creepy sort of a wax museum, one where the sculptures were _far_ too life-like.

"Hello?" Gumball called out, looking from person to person. Nobody responded or moved. They remained exactly as they were, outwardly alive on the surface yet stock-still as though they were carved from stone.

Gumball repressed a shiver. The place was really quite eerie. Like in the hallway, there was no trace of heat or chill, though Gumball could feel goose bumps running up his arms to the back of his neck, his heart letting off small beats that were like thumps in the almost total silence.

Walking past the petrified beings and toward the source of the slow ticking, Gumball rounded a corner line of bookshelves and stopped abruptly, flinching in momentary fright.

There, a few feet in front, was Miss Simian. She too looked like a wax statue — a ghastly one. Her hairy fists were clenched and she appeared to be shouting something, her chalk-white teeth exposed.

Gumball approached her. "Uh . . . Miss Simian?"

She didn't move an inch. Curious, Gumball raised a finger and gave his teacher's side a soft poke.

She was as solid as wood. She remained in her angry pose, completely unaffected. Even her dress's skirt hadn't wrinkled after being poked.

Shifting to his teacher's side so that he could look behind, Gumball glanced up at the clock whose ticking was now loud and no less slow. He did a double take.

"12:40?" And indeed, the clock read the same time as did the one out in the hall. "But it's has to have been at least five minutes!"

As Gumball continued to stare, he noticed that the clock's thin secondhand wasn't moving. It seemed to be frozen like all else in the library. But if that were so, how could the clock be ticking? Why was the ticking so slow . . . so thick? And why did the current time of 12:40 ring a bell? Why did it poke at the inside of his brain . . . ?

Rubbing his shoulder where the Loop mark laid, Gumball looked back at Miss Simian and followed the direction of her serpentine eyes. They were pointing toward the computer stations, where Gumball's classmates were positioned in stationary action.

Penny and Teri stood beside the printer. Teri was apparently checking the pages as Penny waited next to her, observing the printing with a stapler ready in hand. Over at the computers, Tobias and Banana Joe seemed too interested in armpit farts to do what it was they were supposed to be doing. Bobert and Carmen were seated with their eyes (one being robotic) glued closely to the monitor as though they were scanning for dust within the sentences.

And there _he_ was . . . an exact identical look-alike, seated at a computer with Darwin.

Gumball seemed to feel himself freeze as well. This Gumball was dressed in his favorite sweater and dark pants, and was typing at the computer, his hovering fingers bent over the keyboard.

And then, no sooner had he looked at his double, Gumball's ears prickled at the clock's ticking.

Tick . . . tick . . . tick . . . tick tick tick tick-tick-tick-tick-ticktickticktick. . . .

It grew steadily faster, eventually becoming so quick Gumball could no longer hear it. When that happened, a sound like a screech pierced the air, shaking the whole world awake from its rock solid stasis.

"CLASS!" Miss Simian shouted, unfreezing with all the others. Teri jerked and dropped the papers she was holding, Carmen and Bobert jumped in their seats, and Tobias and Banana Joe actually fell out of theirs. Over around the corner, Tina's roar died in her throat as she turned to face the ancient teacher. The whole library seemed to have turned on again.

Receiving one disapproving "SHHH!" from the stubby librarian, Miss Simian glowered and said, in a milder but no less firm tone, "Time to hand in your reports! Hurry and get them printed!"

Gumball watched as his classmates and Double took this order to heart and tensed as they wrapped-up with their final edits. He felt Tina's huge feet stomp the library floor as she ran to her assigned computer where Hector was working. Banana Joe and Tobias seemed extra shaken as they shot right back into their chairs and quickly began checking down their report. Over by the printer, Penny was kneeling down on the floor, kindly helping Teri pick up the papers she had dropped.

All the while this was happening, nobody seemed baffled by the fact that there were currently two Gumballs in the room. Nobody asked why he was wearing his nightclothes, nor did they even glance in his direction.

As his classmates continued to hurry, Gumball began to realize, with startling comprehension, what this all was. It was as though a thick blanket of dust had been cleared away from a colored canvas.

He remembered! This was the moment when he and his class turned in their science reports. It was last Friday. . . . He was experiencing something that happened three days before Monday, three days before the Loop!

_ Oh, that's just great!_ Gumball thought, irritated. _As if Monday wasn't enough!_

"Gumball?"

He froze, his heart having nearly leapt from his chest. But when he turned to look, he found that Darwin wasn't speaking to _him_ but to the other Gumball, the one seated at the computer. He walked closer to them so he could listen; the section of library where he stood became rather noisy as Tobias and Joe frantically raced to finish their editing.

"I gotta use the bathroom," said Darwin briskly. "You good on the rest?"

"Yeah, buddy," said the Past-Gumball. "I just got to add our names, the date, the other stuff and we'll be done."

"Great! See you back in the classroom," and with that, Darwin rushed away and out of the library.

Gumball felt as though a rock had slipped into his stomach. The way the scene was playing out told him he was about to bear witness to a serious blunder, one of the many reasons for why Monday always turned out so unforgivingly awful.

At last he would see. He will finally know what caused him to stupidly forget Darwin's name.

Hardly breathing, Gumball watched in anxiousness as the Past-Gumball moved the computer's cursor across the screen. He clicked on the page's top left corner and began to type.

_ Gumball &_

And then, just as Darwin's name was about to be entered, a soft voice called out, "Gumball?"

Both he and his twin turned around, and Gumball felt his heart freeze. He knew who the speaker was before he looked; he had known her voice since kindergarten — the wonderful, beautiful voice that always brought warmth to his heart and made his tongue go numb and slip on its words.

"Hey, Penny," said the Past-Gumball, in a dreamy, unfocused voice.

Gumball couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed. Did he always do this when Penny spoke to him?

"Everything wrap up well with you and Darwin's project?" asked Penny. "Me and Teri just handed ours in."

"Oh yeah, it's fine," said the Past-Gumball, back in a normal voice. "I'm finishing it now."

And then it started. Gumball watched with horror as his past-self's eyes remained fixed on Penny, yet his fingers returned to the keyboard. They hit the return key and the cursor's flashing icon plummeted one level down the page. The keyboard clacked and clicked as the assignment's name was typed in, along with Miss Simian's class, and lastly Friday's date. Then the Past-Gumball went on talking to Penny while the space for Darwin's and their family's name remained disappointingly blank.

"What are you doing?" Gumball shouted at his Double. "Type in Darwin's name! _**Hello**_?" Gumball's heart was throbbing with fret. His Double took no notice of him or the computer's monitor. "HELLO? Can't you hear me?"

He clearly didn't. "So, uh . . . Penny. You excited for the Pep Fest?"

"HEY!" Gumball, becoming quite angry, gripped onto his Double's stone hard collar. He hung onto his side and then, with all his might, shouted into his double's ear. "TYPE-IN-DARWIN'S NAME, you-_**doofus**_!"

"Yeah, I am," said Penny, smiling sweetly. Like everyone else around her, she seemed deaf and blind to Gumball's shouting. "Me and the other girls are really putting our all into our routine. There's one part, though, that's really tough. The finale. We're going to spend the whole weekend working to get it right."

"Ah, I'm sure you'll get it," said the Past-Gumball with a modest wave. "When I see it, I'll cheer the loudest for you. No matter what, I'll stand and clap my heart out."

"Really?" asked Penny, her face bright with joy.

"Promise," he said with complete honesty and affection.

As much as Gumball would've loved to admire Penny's beautiful smile, he had a more serious issue he was trying to tackle. As soon as Penny and his Double started talking, he had squeezed into the small space between his twin and the computer, and tried with all his might to add Darwin's name to the research paper.

For some reason the computer's mouse, like the doors out in the hall, proved impossible to move. Gumball leaned in with all his weight, straining to push the device from where it currently sat on the mouse pad, but it made no difference. Abandoning this attempt, he tried to move the computer's cursor manually with the arrow keys. He jabbed his finger down hard.

"OW!" he yelled, pulling his finger back. Still, nobody heard him.

Gumball gripped his throbbing finger and looked back down. The key he had tried to press was solid as a rock. Again, Gumball tried to push it, but it wouldn't go down.

In one last effort, Gumball desperately tried to type in the following message:

TYPE IN DARWIN'S NAME

He didn't care where it ended up, so long as the Past-Gumball could see it. He struck the keys with as much force as his fingers could muster.

"Come on! Come on!" he shouted, his fingers rasping on the keys. He slammed, he smashed, he punched — but as before, they would not compress. No amount of force made any difference.

"'Kay, Penny," Gumball heard his Double say from behind, "good luck with everything. Can't wait to see you," and he ended on a soft, happy wave.

In desperation, Gumball jabbed his finger to the blank space on the monitor where his name was written. "Look! Look at it!" he shouted. "Write Darwin's name! Will you stop looking like a lovesick puffer fish and pay attention!"

But it was no use. His Double's eyes were still on Penny as she walked away.

And then, before Penny moved out of sight behind the bookshelves, she turned, seemingly in slow-motion, and blew a doting kiss back to Gumball.

The Gumball sitting at the computer smiled foolishly and looked as though he would soon melt in his chair. And to his side, the Gumball in nightclothes stood there openmouthed, stunned, not knowing whether to feel happy beyond belief or too shocked to smile.

Gumball's mounting bafflement continued as the Past-Gumball, without even looking, took the mouse in hand and moved the cursor up towards FILE and hit PRINT.

And when the Double turned to face the monitor, he still had that goofy half-focused look that told Gumball he had little attention for anything else important.

The window for the printing preferences popped into view, completely blocking the upper left-hand portion of the report where Darwin's name was absent.

Without saying anything more, or breathing, Gumball watched as the print button was pressed and his Double left his chair immediately after to go stand by the printer to collect the unfinished report, looking like a love-struck zombie.

Gumball felt sick, staring in disbelief at the blank space where Darwin's name should be. It seemed to mock him with its vacancy, like a painting missing the one crucial component that kept it from being a masterpiece.

_ This _has_ to be joke_, Gumball thought miserably. If this really was what happened last Friday . . . what was there to be said about it? What COULD be said other than he totally screwed up?

_ I got distracted_, he thought, his mouth dry and eyes wide. Distracted. . . . The word felt laughable and cruel. The humiliation turned quickly to frustration and Gumball closed his eyes, shutting out the library, wishing he could disappear into the dim for his shameful stupidity.

He had been so close to finishing the project, and in the course of two short seconds, he forgot all about the thing he and his brother spent weeks working on — hours of research and reading, days spent in tiring preparation; all of it reduced to zilch because he got distracted and forgot the simple act of writing down someone's name!

If only Penny hadn't come by. If only she could've waited a second longer, then Darwin's name could've been written, and he wouldn't be mad. If only she hadn't blown that kiss. . . .

"_**NO**_!" shouted Gumball's voice, deep within his thoughts. "_Don't you DARE think of blaming Penny_!"

His eyes still closed, Gumball grimaced, feeling ashamed. How dare he think of accusing Penny of this? It wasn't her fault in _any_ way. Penny would never intentionally do something like this. She was kind and friendly to everyone, and Gumball knew that she would _never_ do anything to hurt him. And the kiss? Who was he kidding, he felt ecstatic about it! He probably would've melt in his chair too if only the situation had been different.

But . . . no. There was only one person to blame for this: the one whom Darwin had blamed since Day 1, since the very first Day 1.

Gumball hung his head and sighed. _How_ could he have forgotten all this? _How_ in the name of his flawed memory could he have forgotten Penny's far-flung kiss? Why had it been so hard to think back? He knew perfectly well that he had lived this moment on Friday, so why. . .?

Before he knew it, Gumball's mind reeled back (or perhaps forward) to something that Darwin said to him just yesterday, something that now struck him like a slap to the face.

Gumball eyes flew open at the revelation, but before he could think about it further, something very strange happened.

The entire library went out like a blown light, plunging everything into darkness.

Before Gumball could splutter his confusion, the world around him reformed and he was now standing outside in front of the school's entrance — the very image he pictured in his mind before the library disappeared. And there, standing on the school's top step, as Gumball imagined him to be, was Darwin, looking straight down at him.

_ You were kind of out of it all weekend_, said Darwin, in a calm though oddly echoing voice. _A little bit on Friday, too._

"Huh?" Gumball turned in every direction, eyes widening at how quickly everything changed. But unlike the library, he found everything here to be slightly distorted, fuzzy almost, like swaying heat coming off a flame. The only things with any true clarity were the school and his brother.

_ You were kind of out of it_, Darwin said again, his voice still echoing. _You were kind of out of it. . ._, and he paused.

Then, in a kind of whisper, Darwin said the two final words, _. . .all weekend._

Turning back to face his brother, Gumball's stomach lurched as the scene began to shift. This time, instead of disappearing, his surroundings transformed. The stairs Darwin stood upon shot upward into the sky, stretching far away along with the school, leaving Gumball on the bottom steps, openmouthed and dumbfounded at the towering structure.

Then, Gumball detected the ground beneath his feet become unstable. He heard a loud crack like something breaking, and then, before he could blink, he sank straight down through the stairs and was falling.

His eyes closing on instinct, Gumball screamed as he plummeted into the unknown, Darwin's words echoing in his ears as he fell. _Out of it…all weekend...out of it_.

The words grew into such a clamor that Gumball could hardly stand it. He clenched his hands to his ears, grinding his teeth, and still he was falling, his night shirt and shorts flickering like mad as the air hit them in his decent. He refused to open his eyes; he didn't want to see the bottom when he struck it. He wanted it to come without knowing, hoping it would make the impact less terrible.

But several long moments passed, and still Gumball flailed like a leaf made of cement. He didn't seem to be getting anywhere. . . . Confused, Gumball opened his eyes by a sliver, and at once, the wind died away and he stopped falling, freezing in midair. Only he wasn't in midair . . . not anymore. . . .

There was sunlight. He was now feet flat on a concrete sidewalk, in front of his family's house.

Again, Gumball turned in every baffling direction, his neck starting to hurt from having done it so many times.

He took in the familiar scene he had known since childhood: the blue two-story house, the green lawn that never needed mowing, the Robinson's white picket fence. A simple yet pleasant, comfortable scene, as Gumball always remembered it so.

It was a perfect sunny day, hardly a cloud to be seen, and yet, strangely, the sun in the sky didn't seem to be giving any heat. Gumball held out his hand to the light, but felt no warmth. He also couldn't feel the blunt sidewalk beneath his feet. It was as though his whole body had gone numb yet somehow retained the ability to move and think.

Something was definitely wrong here, though he couldn't see what. . . .

Gumball turned to look down both ends of the street. There were absolutely no people or cars as far as he could tell, nor could he hear any in the distance off towards the city. The silence that had filled the school and library had fallen over the neighborhood, and Gumball found it no less comforting.

He strode on towards the house, rubbing his shoulder where the sideways 8 laid. His mind was frantic with rambling thought.

What on earth was going on? There had to be some explanation. How could he go from his bedroom, to school, to _outside_ the school, and then to his home in such a short time? What had been happening in the library when everyone was frozen like wax statues? Why could nobody see or hear him? What had happened that caused the library to disappear and made the school tower into space? And what, _what_, was happening right now as Gumball stood outside his house, in his night clothes, wondering all of this and not getting any answers?

He pushed the front door open, unsure of what he would see next.

He stepped inside the living room. It was the same as it always was, both before and during the Loop: the couch and TV across from each other, the stairs leading up to the bedrooms and bathroom, the kitchen opening at the far end, and the polished dinning room table with all its chairs empty.

Gumball glanced at the wall clock. It read 10:15. It wasn't Friday or Monday. It _had_ to be the weekend. The proof of this was seated the couch.

Gumball let out a groan of embarrassment that nobody heard. There he was again, his past-self, resting with his arms behind his head, leaning back on the couch's rear cushion in a way that resembled Richard.

This sweatered identical twin was staring dreamily at the TV, which wasn't turned on. It seemed that the Past-Gumball was adoring something that was neither in the room nor actually happening.

Walking up to his Double, Gumball said, "Hello?"

No response. Furrowing his brow, Gumball shouted, "Hey, Me! Can you hear me? Can me hear you?"

But still the twin gave no sign that he did. Gumball had never seen anyone (as Darwin had described) so out of it, not paying attention to anything going on around him.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Gumball thought he detected movement in the kitchen. Moving past the couch and his vacant-minded clone, he approached the doorway.

Gumball heard humming, soft beautiful humming he remembered hearing back when he was a baby. And there, standing at the kitchen countertop, was the woman who used to hum to him all the time, back when he was small enough to fit in her arms.

Nicole was dressed in her usual attire: a white short-sleeved shirt with a rainbow-colored brooch and a gray pleated skirt that fell to her knees. She appeared quite happy and relaxed, something Gumball found incredibly delightful, especially given how angry she's been lately.

She reached over the countertop, opened the front cabinet and pulled out a white, ornate plate — it came from the same set which belonged to the saucer Gumball broke, or _will_ break, to be accurate. Gumball watched her as she held it, delicately stroking her finger down its face, smiling softly as though it were an old friend whom she rarely got to visit. Then, to Gumball's surprise, she turned and looked directly at him.

For a moment, Gumball truly thought his mother became aware that he was there. They looked at each other it seemed — mother and son, both sharing so much in appearance. But it soon became apparent that Nicole was looking _over_ Gumball, in the direction of the living room. Nevertheless, Gumball felt light in his heart at seeing his mother smile, even if it wasn't really for him. . . .

He rubbed his shoulder out of what seemed to be affection.

Still holding the plate, Nicole stepped forward and stopped in the kitchen's doorway. She peaked into the living room and looked at her son on the couch while her present day son stood at her side, looking from her to his clone.

"Gumball?" said Nicole.

His Double responded with a dreamy, half-awake, "Yeah?"

"I'm going to make some cookies. Would you like to help me?" she asked, in a bright, almost expectant tone.

Pride and happiness purred inside Gumball, to hear that his mother wished for his assistance.

Despite the unfortunate truth that some boys might argue that cooking was a girl's game, Gumball was happy to prove that stupid and very laddish idea grossly incorrect. Home Economics class had given Gumball the chance to explore the culinary arts, and he found, to his own surprise, that he was actually talented at it, such as the day when he made a mouthwatering soufflé. He shared it amongst his Home Ec. group, which consisted of Darwin, Penny, and Leslie. All four of them savored it. And, to the entire class's (and school's, AND town's) utter astonishment, Miss Simian actually called it "divine." Gumball vividly remembered her trying her utmost to frown in disgust, as was the norm whenever she talked about him. Unfortunately, her taste buds and dreamy smile betrayed her. To at least be somewhat insulting, she had given the soufflé a C for a grade and swiped the last of it, devouring it with her bare, hairy ape hands.

Nicole had been a bit tired that day to fully appreciate Gumball's rare school success, but by that same weekend she proved to be most impressed, so much that it soon became a fondness to have Gumball help as she cooked, and not just with desserts, but breakfast, dinner, and assorted lunches for the whole family. Gumball had even helped his mother cook some of the Thanksgiving dinner that year, though he left the turkey to the one with more experience. Still, Gumball had come some ways since that day in Home Ec., and he enjoyed helping his mother whenever she asked for it. They became times when he and her bonded, just the two of them, becoming closer as mother and son.

"Gumball?" Nicole asked again, returning her present-day son back to the present. "Would you like to help me bake?"

Gumball frowned, turning to his Double, who was still on the couch staring vaguely at the black TV screen. He didn't seem to have been listening. . . .

"Gumball!" Nicole called louder, starting to look annoyed.

The Past-Gumball gave a lifeless sort of wave, his face never turning to face his mother.

"Nah, Mom," said the happy doofus, "you go ahead. I'm too busy."

Nicole raised an eyebrow. "Can't be that busy. The TV's not even on."

"Yeahhhhhh . . . that's niiicccccccccccce," he said, drawing out the word until it went silent.

Nicole stared at him, clearly uncertain what to make of this behavior. Gumball was especially baffled. What on earth was wrong with him? Had he left his brain back at school? He might not have the best attention span in the world but this was downright embarrassing!

He turned in time to watch his mother walk silently back into the kitchen, looking over her shoulder in the direction of the couch. She put her china plate back into the cabinet and closed it with a sigh.

"Mom. . ." Gumball approached and reached out to her, wanting to apologize. But then, at the moment his hand touched hers (so identical and soft), Nicole vanished into thin air, leaving Gumball all alone in the kitchen.

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><p><strong>The second part of this chapter will be posted on Thursday, as long as nothing unexpected comes up.<strong>


	19. The Lost Days, PART II

**Here's the second and last part to the previous chapter.**

**DISCLAIMER: ****I OWN NOTHING**** from **_**The Amazing World of Gumball**_**, including characters, places, or any other references that may appear in this story ****—**** not a thing.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 19<strong>

_The Lost Days_

_PART II_

His heart having leapt into his throat, Gumball staggered backward and hit the wall beside the open doorway. Ignoring the slight pain in the back of his head, his eyes shot around the small kitchen for some trace of his mother, the outline of where she had vanished still imprinted on the surface of his vision. But there was no point, he knew; the kitchen wasn't that large. Nicole was clearly not there anymore. She was gone.

Rubbing his hand over the spot where his head hit the wall, Gumball turned to look at the countertop and saw a baking tray lined with fresh baked cookies. The tray hadn't been there a moment ago, and, for whatever reason, Gumball couldn't smell the delicious treats.

Then his sight moved to the kitchen window above the sink. The sunlight outside looked different than it had before. From what Gumball could recall in the last few minutes, it had definitely been morning. Now, the light had the appearance and deep feel of an early afternoon. Jumping up onto the counter, Gumball crawled over and leaned forward toward the glass.

He let off a groan. There was his twin again, much to Gumball's mounting annoyance.

Jumping back down onto the floor, Gumball opened the kitchen's door and stepped out into the backyard. He approached the middle of the green lawn where his Double laid musingly on his back, staring up at the partly cloudy sky, his arms folded back and resting behind his head.

Gumball, standing beside his mirror image, sighed heavily. The Past-Gumball looked just as relaxed and spaced-out as he had been on the morning couch, though he did look, perhaps, a bit more casual and a bit less stupid. His eyes, at least, weren't wide and sparkly, and his mouth wasn't stuck in that big, dim-witted grin. Nevertheless, he looked as though he could've given his father lessons in being a couch potato. (Granted, Richard Watterson had a pattern of laziness that would put all couch potatoes to shame, but at least he often had _some_ energy about him; he just didn't have any outlets to put it, being too lazy to look for any.)

As for why his clone was lying on the grass, Gumball had no idea, except that he might've been too spaced-out at the time to know why himself. Gumball didn't normally lay on the lawn in his spare time, unless, of course, Darwin and Anais did it with him. The three of them often had some good times watching the clouds roll by, seeing pictures in their shapes and trying to compare them with anything else. And if Gumball and Darwin felt daring, they would start a tickle fight with Anais. She always had the cutest laugh, and always got the better of her two brothers.

Gumball wondered if it might be worth trying to yell at his Double again or even just tapping his head lightly with his toe. He currently looked somewhere between dreamy delight and all-out ready to fall asleep on the grass. Staring into those half-open eyes, Gumball wondered what was going on beneath them. If this really was the past weekend he was reliving, he had no clue as to what he may have been thinking. But then, is anyone's memory so great that they could remember back that far and to that extent?

Curious, Gumball leaned forward and snapped his fingers in front of his clone's face. He did not flinch. Gumball tried waving his hand over the half-minded stare, but still got no reaction.

Gumball sighed and shook his head. "You really are a head full of hot air, aren't you?"

No answer.

"Oh, great...," Gumball groaned, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "Now I'm talking to myself, _literally_ to myself."

"Hey, Gumball."

His eyes shooting open, Gumball turned to see Darwin and Anais walk out through the back door. It had been Anais who spoke.

"Whatcha doing?" she asked, her tone sweet and cute, and nothing like her behavior on Monday.

To Gumball's increasing annoyance, his Double didn't answer Anais. He merely opened his mouth and made a kind of pleasant sigh.

"What am I," Gumball gaped at himself, "sick with the stupid-flu?"

"Uh, hello? Gumball?" said Darwin, standing over his brother and waving his fin.

The Past-Gumball made no motion to get up off the lawn. He gave only a tiny wave of his hand that was more like a jerk, simply to indicate that he heard them, or was at least aware of them being there.

"Uh . . ." said Darwin, sharing a confused look with Anais. "Gumball? We were wondering if you wanted to go the park with us? There's not much to do around here and we thought, you know, maybe you'd like to go?"

"That sounds great!" said Gumball enthusiastically. He always loved playing with his siblings at the park. He turned to his other self, half expecting him to show interest. But still, there was nothing but that blank face.

Seriously, what was _wrong_ with him?

Anais let off a light growl of frustration, and Gumball didn't blame her; he was getting tired of seeing himself act like a careless moron.

Anais approached her big brother on the grass, then, with her fists clenched, she heaved back a breath, and then, at the top of her voice, yelled, "GUMBALL!"

The Double shot up off the grass and landed on his side. He scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide and shooting all over. "WHAT? WHAT?"

"Your little sister, that's what," said Gumball, his arms crossed. "The world's finest alarm clock. Not to mention, the cutest." (He said this last bit aloud only because he knew Anais wouldn't hear it).

The Past-Gumball glared. "Anais, what the heck was that for? You almost killed me!"

"We asked you if you wanted to go with us to the park and you weren't answering!" she retorted. "What are doing out here, anyway? Cloud gazing?"

"No," he answered. "Just thinking about the Pep Fest on Monday. . ." and to Gumball's embarrassment, his Double broke into that dopey grin again, and began talking in a love struck voice, ". . .and imagining how great Penny will be, and how great it'll all be . . . you know, to watch it . . . and be there . . . and to watch it . . . and to sit there and watch it . . . and to be there . . . and —"

"EARTH TO GUMBALL!" shouted Anais, and the Past-Gumball's face cleared again. "Jeez, is that what's been with you all morning?"

"Been with me? What's been with me?" repeated both Gumballs, curious at what their sister meant.

"You been staring off into space, acting all goofy and murmuring stuff that sounds like its tickling you."

"What?" said the Past-Gumball, letting off a snort. "No, I haven't."

"Yeah, you have, Gumball," said Darwin, sounding annoyed. "You've been like this since Study Hall on Friday. You were so out of it you didn't even hear the bell ring. I had to come back and drag you to class AND to the bus. Then you barely did anything yesterday evening OR this morning. Seriously, this is the most I've seen you awake since yesterday."

Gumball stood there, every word reaching him like a dull pinch. Before he knew it, the memories that had for so long been cobwebbed, invisible and neglected inside his mind, were becoming clearer, and Gumball was liking them less and less.

"Well, can you blame me?" said the Past-Gumball. "I'm just excited to see Penny perform on Monday. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," said Anais reasonably. "We both know you like anything that has to do with Penny, but Gumball, that's not until Monday. For the time being, how about you have some fun and hang with us for a while."

The Past-Gumball shrugged. "Sure, I guess that's fine."

"Good," said Anais, rather pleased. "Now come on." She and Darwin headed back inside. The Past-Gumball walked slowly after them, a small part of his face still looking somewhat distracted.

The instant the back door closed, the surrounding air became suddenly heavy as though an invisible fog had fallen over the neighborhood. Gumball felt the ground shudder beneath his feet, and before he could gasp, his house and the entire neighborhood fell away, down into nothingness. The only thing remaining was a little square patch of lawn on which Gumball now stood, hovering in the air.

Panicking, Gumball's eyes darted everywhere at this next in a series of unexplained oddities. He felt the wind blow beneath him, and without warming, the world popped up again.

Trees sprouted up like unnaturally fast weeds; city skyscrapers rose out from beyond the treetops; a pond formed into the stretching ground and filled itself with sparkling blue water; wooden benches and playground equipment formed out of thin air; and finally, Gumball watched as his small square bit of lawn merged into the grass surrounding him, leaving no sign that it was ever taken from his house.

Gumball lifted his startled gaze and saw people who surely hadn't been there when the world reappeared. They looked blurry, very much like smudges you'd find in photographs when people moved as the picture was taken. He could hear children laughing, birds chirping, and far off in the direction of the city, somewhere beyond the green grass and leafy trees, cars were honking in traffic.

The Elmore City Park looked as it always had: spacious, clean, and picturesque, a perfect getaway from the bustling, busy city and the cramped feeling it often gave.

Gumball appreciated the place, which was home to some of his earliest happy memories: resting on his mother's lap as she stroked his infant head; playing with Anais and Darwin on a picnic blanket; his father being chased by ducks for eating all the bread he was suppose to feed them.

The thoughts of these good times filled Gumball's head until he was certain he could hear them. The more he listened, the closer they seemed to get.

He turned and all thoughts went from the past to the present. He moved toward the familiar voices, toward the only people in the park who were not blurred smudges but as clear as Gumball knew them to be.

He stopped a short distance to listen and watch them. Anais and Darwin were sitting in a sandbox, laughing and building little sand castles: Anais was doing the shaping and Darwin provided water from the nearby pond to hold them together. The Past-Gumball, however, was seated on the sandbox's wooden edge, one hand on his cheek and looking quite out of sync. Occasionally, he would look over at his siblings and compliment them, if only absent-mindedly. Mostly, though, he looked over his brother and sister and towards a more open section of the Park where the grass was more spacious.

Gumball could see Penny. She, like Darwin and Anais, was clear and detailed, as were Carmen, Teri, and Molly, all four holding white pompoms and moving their arms and legs as though they were dancing in slow motion.

_ Must be practicing for their cheer routine_, Gumball thought. Turning back to his Double, Gumball saw that he was transfixed on Penny as though he were staring at the world's most beautiful painting, so captivating that absolutely nothing else in the amazing world mattered.

"Gumball," said Anais, holding a small plastic shovel, "want to help shape the moat?"

"Yeah," he said dreamily, "it'll look nice in your room."

Gumball slapped his hand to his face. How could _anyone_ be this stupid?

Anais looked annoyed. "Gumball, will you get your head out of your empty skull and play with us?"

"Sure," he replied, giving no sign of proof that he heard anything.

Anais scowled in dissatisfaction. "Gumball? Mom told us the bologna is camping out in your bedroom and making s'mores with your socks."

"That's nice," he said grinning.

Gritting her teeth, Anais threw down her little shovel onto the sand, smooshing her sandcastle and startling Darwin. "**Why do I even bother with you?**"

The Past-Gumball woke sharply from his daydream. "Huh? What? What's wrong, sis?"

"You! You keep acting like half your brain is gone!"

"What?" said the Past-Gumball innocently. "I'm just watching Penny a little."

"Yeah, every four seconds!"

"_So_?" he said bluntly, shooting his hands up. "Why can't I look forward to watching Penny cheer? What else do you expect me to do here?" He moved his gaze back to watching the four girls practice, who were far from the sandbox and out of earshot.

To Gumball's shock, Anais and Darwin suddenly became blurry like the surrounding unrecognized people. They were, however, still clear enough for Gumball to see his sister look disheartened. With a heavy heart, Gumball heard Anais mutter, "Never mind." She kneeled gloomily back down in the sandbox where Darwin patted her knee in sympathy.

"Please tell me I'm not this stupid," Gumball begged.

But before his Double could prove that idea further, everything vanished — Anais and Darwin, the park and its people, even the city and clouds — leaving only the bright blue sky like a backdrop to a painting.

Seconds later, Gumball was swiftly thrown backwards and landed on the inside of a moving school bus, his classmates occupying the seats beside him.

He heard arguing in the back, all in a very young, very familiar voice. Sure enough, there he and his siblings were.

"_Like you don't know_," came Anais, sounding bitter and upset.

"_No, I don't_," said the Past-Gumball, sounding annoyed. "_So if you have anything to say, just say it. I'm listening_."

And then, as though he could hear nothing except Anais, her voice rang through Gumball's head like a megaphone, echoing oddly like Darwin's had done. "_That's just it! You don't listen to me at all! I told you Mom would find out about her plate and she did! I tried to help you avoid trouble but you ignored me like you always do!_"

Gumball rubbed the Loop mark on his shoulder, not out of pain or twitch, but because his brain seemed to demand it, jerking his hand to give the mark a light rub, as though trying to relieve a sudden headache.

Almost expecting it, Gumball held his breath as the scene changed yet again. Regardless that the bus had disappeared from sight, however, Gumball could still feel it, moving through black space like a satellite in constant motion.

Before long, though, he came to a stop and the walls of his house's living room shot up from the nonexistent ground. The room and all its objects appeared like bubbles popping in reverse, the last things being himself and his father, appearing and falling onto the couch.

A soft golden light was visible through the window, indicating that it must be evening, or very close to it. Sure enough, the clock read 6:55.

Gumball heard the TV buzz with static as the channel was changed. He paused to listen along with his past-self and father.

"Good evening, everyone," said the cheery news reporter, wearing a for-once honest smile, "Saturday's wrapping up with a beautiful scene of Elmore." The screen faded to reveal a beautiful golden-blue horizon where the sun's rays stretched over the city, bathing it in warm yellows and soft shadows. "Yes, truly picturesque, sent in by Hector and his mom who live up on the hill there. Thanks, Hector. And for the last of tonight's news —"

But as the reporter finished up, Richard began talking, drowning out the TV.

"So, Gumball, did you have a nice day?"

The Past-Gumball, with his head resting on his palm, gave a soft nod and responded, "Yeah, I saw Penny."

"The cute peanut girl whose Dad almost killed you with his car?"

Beaming no doubt at how close he and Penny got that day, the Past-Gumball nodded with a most embarrassing grin.

Richard didn't say anything at first, but then add, "Oh. Well, that's nice to hear, son. You must really like her."

"Mm-hmm," said the Past-Gumball, barely listening.

"Me, I mostly just relaxed here at home, same as always," said Richard, and he paused as though waiting for his son to ask for details. But the Past-Gumball only continued to stare at the TV, not really watching it.

"Gumball?" asked Richard. "Aren't you going to ask me about my day?"

Gumball flipped to another channel.

"Oh, uh . . . okay," Richard said softly. "I know it probably wasn't as great as yours, but I did have some very nice dreams. I also ate some great snacks and heard some very nice birds sing a little bit outside the window."

Gumball looked at his father in sympathy. Most things like that probably would sound boring to other people, but for Richard they were as meaningful as finding money in the street. Lazy though he was, he knew how to appreciate.

"Oh, by the way, Gumball!" said Richard on a sudden note. "That ghost girl from your class came by today while you were out."

Gumball's eyes widened. Carrie? Carrie had come to his house? What on earth for?

"Quite a cute girl, I must say," Richard complimented with a smile. "She seemed kind of shy, though, and her face was light-red for some reason. She must've ran here, or flew, or however ghosts get around fast."

Gumball blinked, slightly open-mouthed and not knowing what to make of this. Had Carrie been blushing?

"She just asked if you were here and, after hearing you had gone to the park, she said 'bye' very quickly and drifted away. Happened only a few minutes before you and the others got back. I must say, for a ghost she's not at all scary. She's actually pretty nice, very much like Penny."

The Past-Gumball gave no sign of interest to this unexpected news.

"So, um. . ." said Richard, patting his lap with his large pink hands, "Gumball, do you want to do anything tomorrow? Nicole said she wanted to talk to us about something at lunch but said we were free to do whatever afterwards, that is if you finished your homework. Maybe Darwin and Anais would like to do something, too?" Richard paused, waiting for any reply, but none came. Gumball watched in resentment as his clone continued to ignore his father, lost somewhere in his own head.

"I'll uh. . . give you time to think it over." Richard rose up off the couch and left both Gumballs alone. Not giving his Double any attention (it deserved none and was embarrassing to look at), Gumball followed his father upstairs. He had stopped inside the bathroom without closing the door. Standing in front of the mirror, Richard sighed and looked down at his drab clip-on tie.

Then, slowly, as though a bright idea hatched somewhere from inside of a dark, dusty place, Richard placed his finger on his chubby chin. "Hmm . . . maybe a little change is in order."

Gumball stared at his father. A change? What did that mean?

It could very well have meant the surroundings, because a second after Richard spoke, they began to shift.

This time around, Gumball landed in the dinning room one floor down. He was seated at the table with his mother, brother, and sister, eating Daisy Flakes and toast for breakfast. Gumball _knew_ this was Monday, because it held every detail of Monday morning: Nicole and Anais' irritated looks and Darwin's blissful ignorance of what awaited him at school.

Then, out of the corner, stepped Richard, sporting his new red tie.

"_HEY, everybody_!" he said happily, his voice echoing.

As the scene unfolded and Richard asked Gumball what he thought of his new tie, comprehension seemed to flood Gumball's brain like icy water. "He . . . he bought that tie to impress me?"

Gumball cringed at his Double's lack of enthusiasm for Richard's gesture. To think his father actually went out and bought a new tie just to get some attention from his son, all because Gumball had acted so brain-dead. . . .

Rubbing his shoulder, Gumball closed his eyes at the scene, not wishing to see anymore.

Thoughts and images of everything he had seen so far swirled through his mind like an angry tempest: forgetting his brother's name, rebuffing his mother, neglecting Anais, giving his father no worthwhile attention. And he, Gumball? He had acted like a complete and total idiot, an insufferable moron constantly staring off into the imaginary thing called Tomorrow.

The clinking of plates and creaking chairs brought Gumball out of his reproachful thinking. The scene had changed while his eyes were closed.

His family was still seated at the table, except for three differences. Firstly, Nicole was off doing something in the kitchen. Second, Richard was seated with Gumball and his siblings, his usual gray tie tucked in on the tangent of his collar. And third, instead of cereal, they were eating sandwiches. Gumball groaned at how spaced-out his past-self looked, nibbling on his sandwich half like how a gerbil would eat a cracker.

"Good grief!" Gumball shouted with no one hearing him. "It's official! I'm Captain Stupid!"

For a while, he ignored his other self and gave attention to his three present family members. Richard was eating his sandwich halves vigorously, as he did with all food. Darwin was beaming between bites, appreciating just how good their mother's cooking was. Anais, seated in her highchair, ate in a way similar to Gumball, though her way was much more acceptable since she chewed and not nibbled.

The sounds of chewing and plates being shifted went quiet as Nicole walked out from the kitchen. She stopped on the table's other side where there was plenty of space for her to lay out what she held in her hands. Gumball stood right beside her, invisible and unknown to Nicole, and watched. The objects she placed down on the table's surface were fragile, beautiful, and important to her. For Gumball, however, they were the source of another terrible memory.

"Cool plates, Mom," Darwin complimented, holding half a sandwich slice.

"Thanks, sweetie," said Nicole gratefully. She then picked up a decorative saucer, one that Gumball knew painfully well. "This is what I wanted to talk to all of you about. It's time you kids heard the story of my grandmother's china plates."

"Ooooh, I love that story," Richard grinned, taking a bite of his sandwich. "It's so ironic. I mean, the plates didn't come from China at all."

"They didn't?" asked Darwin, surprised. "Then why are they called china?"

As though she had learned it long ago, Anais properly explained from her highchair, "They're called 'china' because back in earlier times, around a thousand years or so, the Chinese were the first to produce porcelain plates, and it became convention to call porcelain dishes 'china' to refer back to where they originated. Since then, china has been made in several countries, especially Europe, so many sets might not actually be from China, even though that's what they're called."

"Very good, Anais," said Nicole, visibly proud at her daughter's detailed knowledge. "Now, to be accurate, these plates came from England, right out of the 19th Century." She held out the saucer for her family to see. When she held it up to Gumball, she paused, looking puzzled. "Gumball, are you all right?"

The Past-Gumball was chewing part of his sandwich, staring at the china plate as though it were translucent.

Gumball glanced the reactions of his siblings and father. Richard looked slightly confused. Darwin looked as though he were about to sigh, but more out of pity than impatience. Anais, however, gave the slightest trace of irritation, and went on to say, "Never mind him, Mom. He's just daydreaming about Penny and the Pep Fest. He's was a total zombie all day yesterday." Then, sounding slightly hurt, she add, "He wouldn't even play with me or Darwin at the park."

Again, Gumball felt like kicking himself aside the head.

Nicole looked again to her oldest son. "Gumball?"

Swallowing his food, the Past-Gumball asked, "Hmm?"

"I'm about to tell you something important. Are you listening?"

He nodded, though Gumball saw he still had that preoccupied look, indicating his twin was anywhere except the present moment.

"Good," said Nicole, clearly wanting to get on with her story, "now, as I was saying."

Nicole began, and as she spoke, Gumball could feel the mark on his shoulder tingling.

"My grandmother, as you all know already," Nicole explained, "was born in London and, sadly, very poor. Even with everything as it was, it was still hard for her to make ends meet. Most days and nights, she worked by cleaning people's houses: dusting, washing, scrubbing and sweeping floors. She was a commoner among the commoners, just a normal person trying to scrape by. She worked constantly, and hardly had much time for herself. Sadly, though, her job and the appearance it gave her didn't stand well with many of the wealthy or even the middle class. And even more sad," Nicole bowed her head, "was that a lot of the people my grandma worked for weren't very nice. But there was one aristocrat she worked for who wasn't stuck-up or snobbish.

"A rich women, whose manor my grandmother often cleaned, was very go to her. So kind, in fact, that she often allowed my grandma to sit down with her and have tea, and even invite her over for dinner on occasion. This friendship they struck up grew so well that one day the woman invited my grandma to attend a dinner party with some friends from the higher class. The lady, so generous and thoughtful, even allowed my grandma to borrow a dress so she could look nice for once."

Nicole paused and touched the small saucer affectionately, as though this act of kindness reached out to her through the years. Gumball himself felt touched by his great-grandmother's good fortune. The story was proving to be quite interesting, just as Darwin had told to him so on the last repeat.

Looking over at his father and siblings, Gumball could tell they were eager to hear more as well. It was the first time his father actually looked excited to hear anything like a history lesson. Then again, he had heard this story before.

"Anyway," Nicole said, continuing, "on the night of the party, nobody recognized my grandmother, including many of the rich stuck-ups whose houses she used to clean. She looked like a completely different woman, and she got to talk with a lot of good people."

At this, Nicole gave a smirk. "One of those people was her future husband. They bonded that night, and despite learning she was maid, the man adored her."

"But weren't all the people at the party rich and stuff?" asked Darwin.

"I thought that too, Darwin, when I first heard the story. As it turns out, though, the man was a commoner as well, but he was a very good friend of my grandmother's employer who also invited him on her generosity.

"In the months that followed the party, he and my grandmother started seeing more of each other. Things got better for the man, and before long, he raised enough money to buy a house just outside of London. He asked for my grandmother's hand in marriage . . . and she accepted. Within a month, they were married. And the kind employer, who made everything possible, gifted her favorite maid with a spectacular wedding present, one that had been handed down in her family for years."

Smiling, Nicole lifted up the large china plate and showed it to her family. "These plates — these one of a kind, handmade, ornamental dishes — were given to my grandmother in thanks of all she had done and with wishes that her new life be full of happiness and promise.

"Since that day, these plates have been handled with care by my grandmother, who gave them to my mother, and who passed them to me."

"I don't see you use them very much, though, honey," said Richard.

"They're only for special occasions, dear," answered Nicole. "Holiday meals, accomplishments, or those meaningful days that come only every now and then.

"While they are lovely at meals, it's the deeper meaning that matters. These plates represent the bonds of friendship and family, the rewards that come with hard work and dedication, the remembrance of precious days and the hope of living to see more. As such, when you three come of age," Nicole said to Darwin, Anais, and the Past-Gumball, "I will pass them onto you, hoping you three will take care of them as I have and keep them in good memory and the hope of more to come."

Placing the larger plate back onto the table, Nicole gently held the small saucer in both hands, and then said, "So, did you all have enough to eat?"

Richard, Darwin and Anais nodded.

"Very neat story, Mom," said Darwin.

"Yeah," Anais smiled. "Did they really belong to someone rich?"

"They sure did," Nicole smirked. "Can't remember the name, I'm afraid. When my mother told me the story, I was only seven, and I was much more fascinated with the plates and how shinny they were."

"I bet the woman who owned them ate meals made of solid gold," said Richard dreamily.

Nicole, Anais, and Darwin stared at him. A second later, they were all laughing. The Past-Gumball didn't seem to have heard his father, because the present day Gumball _was_ chuckling at this comment.

"Yeah, I bet they were, dear" said Nicole, laughing. "Now," she picked up the larger plate again, "I got some errands to run in town. Kids, I want you three to finish up any homework you have left. You three can do whatever you want afterwards."

Anais and Darwin both got out of their seats and headed for the stairs. The Past-Gumball remained half-aware in his chair.

"Gumball?" said Nicole, her voice ringing clearly. "Homework."

"Okay," he said, a slur in his voice, and he set off for his room to do, as Gumball knew, anything but his homework.

"Honey," said Richard, who stood up from the table. "Will it be okay if I come with you? There's something I'd like to buy in town."

"Like what?" asked Nicole.

Richard moved closer to his wife and whispered in her blue cat ear. As he did, the dinning room and the two adults vanished, and Gumball was thrown from where he was into the kitchen. It was as though he had been shot from a cannon and zigzagged around the corner.

He looked around the silent space. The kitchen was empty and dark, illuminated slightly by the streetlights outside the window. The kitchen's clock read just a few minutes past nine, around the time he and his family usually went up to bed.

Then, his ears prickling, Gumball heard light footsteps from around the doorway. Gumball turned and watched his Double enter through the kitchen on tiptoe. He was dressed in the exact same nightclothes he, Gumball, was wearing, and by the way he moved, he gave the impression that he was sneaking.

Gumball felt an unpleasant churning in his stomach, the same awful feeling he got whenever something dreadful was about to happen.

He continued to watch, predicting the scene and seeing it play out just as he imagined it would.

The Past-Gumball climbed up onto the kitchen countertop and reached for one of the cabinet doors where his mother kept the plates.

Gumball was shaking his head, frowning gravely, "No. No, please, don't."

The Past-Gumball grabbed the saucer his mother had been holding at lunchtime that afternoon. The sight of that beautiful plate being taken from its peaceful, safe cupboard was enough to make Gumball's heart shrink.

The scene played out like a victim walking towards a terrible accident. Reaching into a glass jar, the Past-Gumball grabbed a cookie from the batch his mother had baked on Saturday and placed it onto the china plate. He walked to a corner and ate it.

Brown crumbs fell onto the porcelain and laid there like dirt on white crystal. Gumball's throat became drier by the minute as he watched his Double chew the cookie, looking totally care-free and unaware of —

And as he thought of it . . . it happened.

CLINK!

Shifting his eyes toward the small, sharp sound, Gumball's mouth fell open, but he was too startled to gasp or breathe.

For the first time all weekend, the Past-Gumball looked fully awake and anxious, holding two pieces of one plate in both hands.

Panicking, the Past-Gumball rushed to a drawer and pulled out a small tube of superglue. Grabbing a sheet of paper towel, he hurried to the counter and carefully laid the two china halves onto the white sheet and, provided with a small bit of light from the streetlights outside, he slowly applied glue to where the plate had broke. Placing down the tube of glue, he gently touched his blue fingertips on both ends of the saucer and pressed the pieces back together.

For two whole minutes, there was nothing except the two Gumballs' slow breathing, their heartbeats pounding in sync as they desperately watched and prayed the plate would be all right. Never had the nighttime felt so thick and heavy.

When certain that the glue was as dry as it was going to get, the Past-Gumball picked up the plate. Holding it delicately, he left the kitchen on tiptoe, grabbed a chair from the table, and dragged it back through the doorway, placing it beside the fridge. Just as he was about to crawl up and hide the plate, Anais, to Gumball's shock, entered the kitchen, dressed in her single-piece blue pajamas.

"Gumball, what are you doing? It's time to go to—" Anais' voice fell at seeing the saucer. Her eyes grew wide and she almost gasped, but her big brother leapt from where he was and pressed his free hand against her mouth.

"Shhh!" he whispered desperately, taking his hand away. "Please, sis!"

"What did you do?" Anais whispered incredulously. "That's one of Mom's good plates!"

"I know, I know!" Gumball stressed, keeping his voice down. "I just got a little hungry and grabbed what was closest, and it hit the cupboard's bottom as I tried to put it back. But don't worry, I glued it back together, see?" he held the plate up to where the light was clearer, and when he did, both he and Anais gaped.

The plate had been glued quite crudely. The two ends, which had looked even in the faint shadows, were jutted, and there was an excess of hardened glue on the plate's surface. No way in this universe or any other would their mother ignore this sloppy repair job.

Anais evidently thought so too. "Are you crazy? There's no way you can pass that off as fixed! Mom will notice in a heartbeat!"

"Don't worry," said the Past-Gumball, "I'll take it out to the garbage tomorrow when Mom's not looking. She's got other small plates like this, she won't care if one's gone."

"Yeah, she will!" Anais hissed. "Gumball, this is the person who smelled trouble six miles away in an office building while you messed up a DVD! There's no way you can hide this from her!"

"Stop worrying," Gumball said carelessly. He climbed onto the dinning room chair, reached atop the fridge, and hid the broken plate. He climbed back down and pushed the chair back to the table. "There. Out of sight, out of mind. And tomorrow, it will be out of the house."

Gumball was finding it harder and harder by the moment not to want to kick himself. No wonder Anais had been so upset at him for not listening.

"Gumball," she said through gritted teeth, her tiny fists clenched. "You _have_ to tell Mom about this!"

"Right now?" Gumball asked. "She's just gone to bed."

"Tell her in the morning! Believe me, these kind of things never end well when the problem is hidden away! Mom will be even more mad if you try to fool her, not to mention you'll hurt her feelings if you throw it away! Those plates are special to her! How could you not know that after what she told us this afternoon?" She said these last words quietly, but with such heat that Gumball felt nervous standing next to her.

"It's just a plate!" the Past-Gumball said through his teeth. "If she's really going to freak out—"

"Gumball, please!" Anais whispered intensely. But Gumball also sensed concern from his sister, deep worry. "Gumball, I don't want you to get in trouble. We both know how scary Mom is when she's angry. I don't want you to have a bad day, especially after you've been daydreaming about it since Friday. Please, _please_ listen to me, just this once!"

Gumball didn't know whether to feel touched or surprised. Anais, his little sister, was worried about him. Regardless of how irritated and frustrated she will be on the Monday to come, she was showing genuine concern for her brother, was trying to help him.

"I'll-take-care of it!" the Past-Gumball whispered harshly, and without another word he rushed upstairs to his bedroom, leaving Anais alone at the foot of the stairs, staring up at him, disheartened.

"Sis . . ." Gumball said guiltily. He knew perfectly well that she couldn't hear him, but right now he wanted nothing more than to reach out to her and say he was sorry.

He moved closer and touched her little shoulder. A second later, Anais was gone, and so was the living room, and the house entirely.

Gumball now stood alone in a deep, dark world — complete uninhabited black. There was no light as far as he could tell, yet he could plainly see his hands as he held them up to his face. Looking down, he didn't seem to be standing on anything. He was merely floating, it seemed.

"Hello?" he called out, and his voice echoed in every direction until it faded to silence.

Gumball didn't know what to do. Should he move? Would he fall if he did? What was happening? How was this all happening, that he could see all this yet nobody could see him?

"You aren't there," said a voice, familiar and cold.

Gumball felt all the fur on his back stick out. His eyes widened and his throat closed up. Slowly, he turned around.

There, standing in the black nothingness with him, perfectly visible, were the four members of his family. None of them looked happy.

"You aren't there," Nicole repeated, scowling at her son. She was holding her broken saucer.

"What?" Gumball asked, quite uneasy.

Nicole held out her plate, glaring. "You didn't care to listen."

Glowering, Darwin lifted a piece of paper with a large red F. "You didn't bother to check."

Frowning, as though he were weeping, Richard raised the end of his red necktie. "You didn't try to understand."

Then Anais stepped forward, looking livid. She wasn't holding anything, but her fists were closed tight. "You didn't take it to heart."

Gumball stared opened mouthed, disturbed by the four people and the expressions they gave him.

Then, without warning, another person rose into existence at Gumball's right. It was Penny. She was holding her white pompoms, and was clearly disappointed and sad.

Then Carrie appeared, rising up from Gumball's left. She was holding her slice of chocolate mint cake and looking at him with a sad, wounded expression.

The two girls were parallel to each other. Gumball's heart ached at the sight of them both. He wanted to turn and look away.

More people began to pop up. Teri, Molly, and Masami were holding a model of a long wall, which they deliberately dropped to the floor, looking stony as it broke. Then Leslie and Carmen appeared, one holding a lit match while the other held a paper over the flame. Bobert's robotic eye flickered and his whole body shook until it short-circuited. Principal Brown irritably adjusted his glasses, Miss Simian smiled her ugly grin, and Mr. Small was laughing like a lunatic as coffee beans rained from above, slipping through his fingers as he sang a crazed, demented song:

_Coffee, coffee, sweet as toffee,_

_Puts a smile on your face._

_Day by day, the joy goes away,_

_Dull and bitter becomes the taste._

The song echoed like a ghostly wail, sending a shiver down Gumball's spine.

Then, like a rocket, a score board shot up from the darkness and displayed two scores, one outrageously high, the other at zero (which, strangely, seemed more imposing of the two).

Gumball looked from one person to the next, but still his family stood out amongst them all, their cold, disappointed faces terrible and agonizing.

Then, Mr. Robinson appeared at the center. Every eye present turned towards him.

"Kid," he said nonchalantly. "Remember . . . don't forget."

He then looked up, and everyone else copied him.

Gumball followed where their sights motioned and his heart dropped. A large white thing, shaped like an eight, was hovering over him. It might very well have been made of rope. And then, before Gumball knew it, the bottom loop dropped down and was now resting against his throat.

Gumball's gasp never made it as he sank down into oblivion, the pressure around his neck tightening. He was falling, falling . . . and then he stopped moving all together as the entire world became, somehow, even darker.

* * *

><p>Gasping loudly, Gumball shot up from his bunk. His face was soaked in sweat and his breath left him in great heaves as, from across the room, the alarm clock began to drone.<p>

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><p><strong>And there you have it. The story isn't quite over yet, mind you. Gumball has a few more hurdles to leap before he has a chance of seeing the thing we call Tomorrow. I hope that chapter 20 doesn't take too long. I'll see you all again when I have it finished.<strong>


	20. A Thousand Tries, PART I

**Hello, everyone. I would like to say a few things before this chapter begins.**

**Without needing to say it (though I'll say it anyway), I know it's been a long and frustrating wait. And, without the slightest doubt in my head, most of you are probably wondering what my excuse is. What could I have been doing these five long months that would make me wait so long to write an update?**

**I would like **_**and**_** hate to say the reason was to give the reader an idea of what Gumball was going through. While poor Gumball longed to see tomorrow, you all will have longed for the next chapter — two things that weren't looking to show themselves anytime soon. The reader would, for an unacceptable length of time, become one with our friend Gumball and feel the affects of the Loop as well.**

**But the **_**real**_** reason is this. I took the month of June off to rest and to focus on the work I had at my employed job. At the start of July, however, I got an idea for a story from an old cartoon, and since then I have been writing a new fanfic that I challenged myself to have finished before Christmas of this year. I am currently 17 chapters in and still have a long ways to go. And, quite unfortunately, trying to write a new story, and having so much to do at work, AND the unforgivable condition I have called "lazyiness", I hadn't managed to get a page of this story written during that time. But no more.**

**Please remember, my beloved readers, I WILL complete this story. It has been my intention since Chapter 1 to finish it. I started it so I could train and become a better writer and to give people something enjoyable to read, but I have made you all wait for too long now, and that simply won't do. So, from this point on until it's over, I will work on both stories AT THE SAME TIME.**

**Enjoy. All comments are welcome, including those that grammatically say, "About dang time, you lazy $%&#!"**

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><p><strong>Chapter 20<strong>

_A Thousand Tries (Part I)_

Gumball didn't bother eating anything for breakfast. His mind was too full of thoughts, past and present, to enjoy something as simple and wonderful as food. Fully dressed and quite glum, he walked from the house's front door with his head hanging. His family watched him as he left — it wasn't every day Gumball wanted to leave for school so early.

He moved at a slow pace down the subburb's first block, the sun's rays stroking him overhead. The crisp morning air cooled him as the neighborhood began to stir, the first few people leaving in their cars. The sky was just the right tint of turquoise, the only clouds around a light, wispy cirrus.

Strange though it was, this was the very first repeat in which Gumball looked up to appreciate the weather. It truly was a lovely morning to behold, but Gumball's mind, for the first time in so many Mondays, was anywhere but the present day. He continued on down the sidewalk, focusing on nothing but the old concrete squares lining the edges of the mostly empty streets.

After all the repeated hours, all the footsteps he had taken on this never-ending day, Gumball finally knew the truth. Everything that had happened, and had yet to happen, were the results of his own careless actions, of those moments over a weekend he hadn't really experienced. Mom's plate, Darwin's grade, Dad's tie, Anais' advice... It was all clear now, his family's anger and disappointment was justified, and Gumball alone was responsible.

It was his fault he was trapped here. He didn't care to listen. He didn't bother to check. He didn't try to understand. He didn't take any of it to heart. It was _all_ his fault.

Stopping on the curb's edge, just one block away from the business side of Elmore, Gumball tugged on the collar of his sweater. There, underneath on his shoulder, laid the black eight. It seemed more like a wound now than a tattoo, a scar created from the mistakes he had carelessly made in the forgotten days.

He strolled forward passed Laser Video where Larry stood behind the store's counter, placing a bandage over his large rock head, no doubt in the place where he hit the sidewalk after falling from his bike.

The school parking lot was empty except for Principal Brown's car when Gumball arrived. He paused at the foot of the steps leading up to the entrance, remembering his last repeat. Darwin had stood atop these stairs, and his words still echoed in Gumball's ears like a haunting memory:

_You were kind of out of it all weekend_.

With a heavy sigh, Gumball treked up the steps and entered through the double doors.

The school was quiet, very much like the dream he had last night when time was frozen. The faint odor of cleaner hung loosly on the air. By the time the first students arrive, the smell would be gone, never to be experienced or appreciated.

At first, Gumball thought he was alone. But this illusion was quickly broken when Principal Brown walked out from his office and turned down the hall, a pair of goggles on his furry forehead and a towel held under his arm. He never saw Gumball as he walked off to the pool for his morning exercises.

The Teacher's Lounge was unlocked when Gumball got there. Pulling the door open, he stepped inside to the charming breakfast display. A hot pot of French roast coffee was brewing, a colorful bowl of fruit sat near a box of sweet donuts and bran muffins, a line of cereal boxes was stacked atop a small fridge, and Miss Simian's personalized bag of scones waited on the table, a few frosted edges peaking out over the bag's top.

Gumball took in the whole canvas of taste and smell, then grabbed a scone out from the white paper bag. It was raspberry and white chocolate chip — the drizzled frosting was sweet, the brown dough soft, the melted raspberry and white chips tingly in his mouth. It was a delicious flavor Gumball had never tasted before. He savored every bite of the rare moment, and, before walking out, took one last wiff of the hot coffee.

The sensation of taste and smell stayed with Gumball all the way to Miss Simian's empty classroom. He sat down in his hardwood desk up front and stared around at the bleak silence which, for the time being, owned the room.

"They really should put a plant in here," Gumball said to himself. And there he sat for what felt like an hour, amusing himself at how a plant might affect the classroom. Would it make the place feel more bright, more alive? Would it go unnoticed like the intercom speaker above the chalkboard, only looked at when attention was called to it? Would such a simple addition or change really make any sort of difference to a person's day?

As school began and the hours drifted by and the events played out like the numbers on a clock, Gumball felt alone, regardless of his classmates, regardless of Carrie and her cake, regardless of the cheering Pep Fest and how flawlessly Penny performed. All of this filled Gumball's blue cat ears like a light humming that came and went on occation. He wasn't paying any attention at all — not that he needed to; he knew this day left and right.

Before Gumball knew it, he was back home again, alone in his quiet bedroom.

He had spent the entirety of this repeat reliving the moments where he had neglected his family, having no inkling how his brain could've acted the way it did. Probably just him being stupid as usual — big surprise there...

But now, as the alarm clock read 9:30, Gumball was thinking to the day ahead, of what he needed to do and of how he was going to do it. If those dreams had been the Loop's way of telling him what needed to be done, he was going to follow its advice. And wherever that leads him, to tomorrow or some other day, Gumball wasn't going to give up until he tried everything.

With determination that he had finally found the answers, Gumball pulled the blankets up over himself, closed his eyes, and grew limp, the alarm's glowing green numbers fading as his breath fell quiet.

* * *

><p><em>(Darwin)<em>

With one fishy eye opening groggily, Darwin awoke in his fishbowl on Monday to a familiar muffled buzzing.

Through the bowl's curved glass, he saw a rush of blurred blue sprint across the bedroom and slap its hand down on the place where the alarm clock sat. The buzzing stopped.

A bright, dazzling glow of sunlight shone through the room's window, alerting Darwin to the fact that it must be morning and therefore time to get up.

Breathing in a light, waterlogged yawn, he popped his head out from the bowl, took a breath of fresh air, and rubbed both his tired eyes as water dripped off his fins.

His eyes still shut, Darwin heard the bedroom door creek open, accompanied by a sweet, little voice.

"Morning, Gumball," Anais said sleepily.

What answered back filled the bedroom like a cannon blast.

"Morning, little sis!"

Startled, Darwin's eyes shot open. Gumball's arms were wrapped around Anais, who was lifted a few inches off the ground in a tight embrace.

"G-Gumball?" said Anais, taken aback. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just dandy, Ran-Day!"

This response was so out-of-character that Darwin wouldn't have laughed even if Gumball had said it normally.

"So, sis..." Gumball put Anais back down, his tone a bit more mild but still as bright as the sunlit square on the carpet. "I bet you're here to remind me about Mom's plate, right?"

_Plate?_ Darwin thought. _What plate?_

"Uh . . . yeah," said Anais. "I think there's still a chance you can explain —"

"Well, then, let's go!" Gumball said eagerly, and in a mere three seconds, he grabbed Anais by the hand and they zoomed out of the bedroom just as Darwin touched the towel on the floor.

Before he could dry himself off or try and make sense of what just happened, a loud CRASH sounded from outside the window.

Still dripping wet, Darwin rushed over and looked outside. There, lying on the sidewalk in front of the house's lawn, was Larry, his eyes rolling as one hand lay clutched to his large rock head. A bicycle laid a few feet away from him on the grass, one of its wheels still spinning.

Rushing back to his towel, Darwin dried off just enough to prevent any further dripping on the carpet. When he returned to the window, Larry was back on his bike and, rather wobbily, rode off towards the city.

Glad of Larry's quick recovery, Darwin removed his soggy slippers, pulled on his green and white sneakers, and was just about to go down to breakfast when Gumball reentered the room.

There was a great change in his brother's expression now. Gumball was no longer beaming with the robust energy he sported when Anais walked in. He now looked quite calm and, if Darwin thought right, guilt-ridden.

"Darwin?" Gumball said genlty, stroking his hands together. "There's . . . there's something I need to say to you . . . ."

"Yeah? What?" asked Darwin, an eyebrow raised.

Gumball let out a sad sigh.

* * *

><p>"But . . . but!" Darwin was spluttering at the table, his bowl of Daisy Flakes untouched as his mother and sister stared at him with confusion. He felt hollow and sick over the news Gumball had given him. Rendered speechless for the first minute, he now found himself unable to say anything except fragments like, "But! What? How! YOU — WHAT?"<p>

"Yeah, I know, I know," said Gumball with sympathy, patting his brother's fin. "I am very, very sorry, Darwin. I know we worked hard on that report and that you were especially dedicated, but I hope you can forgive me. If you want, I can have Miss Simian change the grades so that you get the better mark. You deserve it, after all. Would you like me to do that?"

Darwin was rendered quiet again. The anger that had started brewing at the very sight of his brother went steady at hearing this offer. But was there really any chance of Miss Simian changing a grade, and for Gumball and himself of all students, her least favorite in the whole school?

"Wow, Gumball," said Anais, an eyebrow raised. "You sure are . . . open on admitting your mistakes today."

"Yes, I am," he respond brightly. "I've learned that it's best to admit your mistakes early instead of letting them build up and lead to greater disappointment."

Mrs. Mom looked slowly from Anais and back to Gumball. "You learned all that while you were sleeping?" she asked.

"What? Oh, no, no," said Gumball, grinning, "I learned it today, actually. Or I _will_ learn it, in which I'll have it to remember for the next today. Get it?"

Gumball took a huge bite of his Daisy Flakes, the cereal crunching loudly in the baffled silence.

After a few moments in which Darwin and the others ate while staring awkwardly at Gumball, Mr. Dad came downstairs and greeted the family, sporting a brand new red tie.

"So, Gumball?" Mr. Dad asked expectantly. "What do _you_ think?"

And the strangeness showed itself again. Gumball hopped from his chair and landed right at Mr. Dad's side like an amuatur acrobat, his expression sly. "Looks great, Dad. Really compliments your pink self. So sleek, so stylin'."

"Ahh," said Mr. Dad, flattered, "thank y —"

But Gumball errupted into euphoria. "IT'S AMAZING! I mean look at it! I've heard of wearing your heart on your sleeve, but _you_ go out and wear it on your _neck_! That tie was made for you, stitched and sown for the guy to buy!"

And, to Darwin's mounting surprise, Gumball jumped up onto Mr. Dad's thick shoulder, grabbed the tie in one hand and held it to his cheek. He gave a long moan of pleasure, his face screwed up in delight. "Sooooo goooood."

Mr. Dad was no longer smiling. "Uh . . ." he said. "Thanks, son . . ."

Gumball jumped back down to the floor. "What a wonderful surprise!" Then, pointing both his index fingers at Mr. Dad in a waving motion, he added, "You are one good lookin' hot rod."

Darwin may have just gone mute. What in the name of names had crawled into Gumball's head and lain its eggs?

"Well," said Gumball, stretching his arms, "I don't know about all of you but this morning's going great. I better go up now and brush my teeth. The Pep Fest is today, you know. Gotta give a bright smile for Penny!"

He walked away, completely ignoring the bewildered, wide-eyed faces at the table. The silence in the house was so extreme now it felt solid.

Darwin chose to be the one who broke it. "Should we call a psychiatrist?"

"If he's like this when he gets home," said Mrs. Mom, "yes. Absolutely."

"Uh...Nicole?" said Mr. Dad. "Could you take this tie back to the store, please?"

* * *

><p>"Why, certainly, Miss Simian!" Gumball cried happily, drawing the whole class' attention. "I would be delighted to name the six Noble Gases!" He shot up from his desk and turned to face everyone, who nearly jumped backwards in their seats.<p>

"Helium! Neon! Argon! Xenon! Krypton! RADON!"

He punched the air with each word, speaking as though each were making him more ecstatic.

Miss Simian, dumbstruck by the booming volume, responded, "Uh . . . yeah . . . correct."

Gumball beamed so brightly that Miss Simian flinched.

Darwin didn't feel even slightly angry at his brother for forgetting his name now. Nor was he happy that Gumball had somehow managed to convince Miss Simian to swap each other's grades. No. Darwin was more concerned at what in world was making his brother act like this. It was like he was infected by a radience that could overpower Mr. Dad's "Wonder Hugs". The memory of that incident had also been quite creepy, but _nothing_ compared to this.

Looking around the classroom, Darwin could tell he wasn't the only one feeling uncomfortable. Every student was eyeing Gumball as though he had a snake slithering out of his nose. Darwin couldn't entirely blame them; there was definitely something screwy about Gumball today.

Darwin couldn't place it, but if he had to make a guess, Gumball seemed to be excited about something, like he alone knew of a beautiful surprise that had yet to show itself.

What it could be besides the Pep Fest, Darwin didn't know, and from the way Gumball was acting, Darwin wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Two hours into class time, Miss Simian could no longer tolerate the sight of Gumball's beaming grin and she sent him to Mr. Small in the Guidance Counselor's office. The moment Gumball exited the room, Miss Simian let off a shudder and ran her wrinkled primate hands up and down her arms, no doubt to ease the tingling of goose bumbs.

When the class was dismissed for lunch, Darwin found Gumball waiting for him at the entrance to the cafeteria. He was smiling as much as ever, though he did seem calmer than he had been in class. Darwin could feel his cheeks go red as he stood next to his brother, praying with all his might that Rachel wouldn't notice him.

Inside, Mr. Small greeted Darwin and took down his guess at the coffee beans in the 10 gallon water bottle. The guidance counselor's grin faltered at the sight of Gumball, who greeted Mr. Small with a wave and moved out of the lunch line without giving a guess, much to Mr. Small's immence delight.

Darwin joined Rachel at her table. Gumball, wiggling his eyebrows in Darwin's direction, went off to eat alone — thank goodness! The lunch was all together very good, and the chat with Rachel felt like a cool breath of fresh air to Darwin. Rachel's smile, as compared to Gumball's, was much smaller, sweeter, and didn't show as many teeth.

Promising to meet up with her at the Pep Fest later, Darwin waved Rachel goodbye as she headed off to her next class. Taking his last delicious bite of chocolate mint cake, he turned around to where Gumball had gone for his lunch but found that he had already left. Before Darwin could make a move towards the exit, he was stopped when Penny and Carrie approached him. They both looked slightly worried.

"Darwin?" said Penny. "Is Gumball okay?"

"Yeah," said Carrie. "If his smile gets any brighter, the sun'll lose its job."

"I don't really know..." said Darwin, shrugging. "I tried asking him, but he just grinned and told me 'It's a great new day'. Probably just excited to see you cheer, I suppose," he nudged in Penny's direction.

Both Penny and Carrie seemed to consider this for a moment, then, at the same time, they turned their gaze in the direction of the door where Gumball left.

"If you don't mind, Darwin, can you just let him know we're worried about him?" asked Carrie.

"Okay," said Darwin, "sure," and he walked off for Study Hall while Penny and Carrie stayed behind. Darwin thought he heard them begin a whispered talk as the door closed . . .

* * *

><p>When Darwin entered the library and delievered Penny's and Carrie's message, Gumball merely nodded and mumbled, "Mm-Hmm . . . okay. Sure thing. No prob."<p>

Sighing in mild annoyance, Darwin didn't even pretend to be surprised anymore. He sat down at the long table and spent his Study Hall time with a fin pressed to his face, watching his happy-go-lucky brother work on his 800 word writing project. Glancing down every few minutes at the paper, Darwin saw that most of its sentences ran on or changed subject constantly:

_It's funny, the things that cause us problems. A simple slip of the mind and you find yourself on a merry-go-round of trouble and stress. While we mustn't forget the mistakes we've made, we mustn't forget to look at things differently. We must ask ourselves, "If I don't smile, who will do it for me?" Such a repetative world we live in . . ._

On and on Gumball's behavior went all the way to the Pep Fest, the only place where this kind of excitement felt appropriate. He did, however, applaude a little too long after Penny and the cheerleaders performed their routine. Darwin couldn't tell whether Penny's blushing was from affection or embarrasment, but if it had been Darwin who was down there in front of the whole school, he definitely wouldn't want to be the target of Gumball's manic clapping.

Finally, around dinner time at home, Gumball's energy seemed to take a break. His mood was much more casual and carefree, almost as though he were on vacation. Quite glad his brother had finally simmered down to a less embarrassing simmer, Darwin apporached him at the couch.

"So uh . . . are you all right, Gumball?" he asked cautiously, worried that his brother might squeal and pounce him with a hug.

Gumball, his arms resting behind his head, glanced over and said, "Oh, yeah. I'm doing great. Everything today went as good as I could've hoped for."

"Even the part where you forgot my name and then took the failing grade yourself?" Darwin asked heavily.

The house went suddenly quiet.

Gumball stood up from the couch and, for the very first time that day, he wasn't smiling.

"You're not still angry, are you?" he asked, and Darwin was surprised to hear the fear in his brother's voice.

"No, not anymore," said Darwin honestly. "In fact I'm rather touched that you took the failing grade and convinced Miss Simian to give me yours. I didn't think that would be possible."

"Ah, well," said Gumball, sounding relieved, "it was tricky the first time, but after you try it as many times as I have, you'll learn just what to say to her."

"Right . . ." Darwin said, not understanding. "But, Gumball, _are_ you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said. "Why, do I not look it?"

"I don't know what to think, and neither does Anais, Mom or Dad," said Darwin. "No offence, Gumball, but you acted really crazy today. First you confess to Mrs. Mom about breaking her plate, then you practically flirt with Mr. Dad's new tie, then you act all eager in Miss Simian's class. And then, when we finally get to the Pep Fest, you were bouncing in your seat like a sports fan with rabies."

"So? Everyone else in the gym was cheering loudly."

"Yeah, but I thought you were only excited because you wanted to cheer for Penny. From the moment we sat down, though, you looked like you were trying to break your hands by clapping.

"Look," said Darwin, calmly. "I'm happy you felt so good today. As your brother, I share in your happiness. But is there anything, _anything_ wrong? You know you can talk to me if there is, right?"

"Of course I know," said Gumball. "But seriously, Darwin, nothing's wrong. Everything went fine today and I'm very happy with that. Plus, we all got a great new day to look forward to tomorrow."

Darwin raised an eyebrow. "What's so great about Tuesday?"

"Who knows?" Gumball smiled brightly. "I, for one, am excited. In fact, I bet it'll make today look like a funny memory."

And with that, Gumball leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes with a sigh.

Walking away towards the stairs, having given up on trying to understand, Darwin mumbled, "I wouldn't exactly say it's been a funny memory . . ."

* * *

><p>Darwin didn't know whether it was fatigue or from the day ending, but Gumball's energy seemed just about drained by the time everyone retired for bed. Just as Darwin was about to hop into his fishbowl, he heard a gentle knocking on the door.<p>

"I'll get it," he said quickly. Gumball, who had crawled into the bottom bunk, didn't respond. He may have already fallen asleep.

Opening the door, Darwin peeked out and found Anais on the other side, dressed in her favorite pink footie pajamas. Darwin stepped out into the hall.

"Did he say anything?" asked Anais.

"Nope," said Darwin. "And I don't mind. He probably would've screamed it, then we'd have deafness to go along with near blindness from that grin of his."

"Eh, he was probably just overexcited for the Pep Fest," said Anais. "I mean, we saw what he was like on the weekend. Today was an improvement compared to then, but at least he hadn't been..."

"Acting like a smiling nutcase in a nut can?"

Anais nodded. Really, there was hardly a better phrase to describe Gumball's behavior.

"Well . . ." she said with a sigh, "let's just go to bed and hope he's better tomorrow. Night."

"Good night."

Darwin turned and opened the door again. But then, remembering something from eariler, closed it and asked, "Anais?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember Gumball doing any reading yesterday?"

Anais paused to think. "No. Why?"

"Because in class today, we had a pop quiz and he knew what the answer was. He even knew what the question was before Miss Simian said it."

Darwin paused, frowning.

"And now that I think about it . . . how did he know what our grades would be when he told me this morning? I mean, we didn't get them until we got to school . . . ."

* * *

><p><em>(Anais)<em>

Anais woke on Monday morning to the sound of her brothers' alarm buzzing through her bedroom walls. Straining, she edged over and checked her clock, which read 6:20. She groaned into her pillow, wondering for the upteenth time why she and her family had to get up so early each morning. Contrary to popular belief, the early bird doesn't necessarily get the worm — there might not be any worms to grab.

But, deciding there was no use complaining or theorizing why it's important she and her family wake this early, Anais hopped down from her warm blankets and onto the soft carpet.

Her brothers' alarm clock was still buzzing.

She took a moment to rub her hands down her tired face when, quite unexpectedly, in addition to the alarm's ongoing cry, she heard a hard THUD a few doors down. Judging from the fact that it didn't cause the floor to shake, Anais knew it couldn't have been her dad. No...it sounded more like it came from her brothers' room.

Must've been Gumball jumping down from his bunk . . . .

_Good_, Anais thought blurrily._ I better go and talk to him. Maybe a good night's sleep will have cleared that big empty head of his._

And so, straightening her blue pajamas, Anais walked out into the hall and headed over to Gumball and Darwin's room.

Opening their door, she heard the alarm's buzzing stop. She entered, rubbed her tired face, and said with a yawn, "Morning, Gumball."

She waited, but no greeting came.

Anais stopped rubbing her sleepy face. Gumball was standing a few feet in front of her, wearing an expression that told Anais he was very startled at her being there.

"What?" asked Anais. "I thought you and Darwin were okay with me coming in."

For several seconds Gumball remained quiet. He looked from Anais to Darwin then back to his alarm, as though he had misplaced something very important.

"Uh . . . sis?" said Gumball. He sounded uneased. "Is today Tuesday?"

"Tuesday?" asked Anais. "Today's Monday, Gumball. Don't tell me you've already forgotten the Pep Fest?"

Anais seriously doubted it; how many times over the weekend had she listened to Gumball's daydreams about cheering on Penny? The way he had ignored everyone made Anais want to kick him.

But now, however, the weekend had gone, and in its place was a Gumball Anais didn't recognize.

The longer she looked at him, the more Anais felt something was bothering Gumball. There was not a speck of the excitement he had displayed over the last few days — it looked as though they might have been slapped out of him.

Anais' insides crindged at seeing her big brother like this. "Are you okay, Gumball?" she asked.

Jerking as though he had just noticed her enter the room, he said, "I . . . uh . . ." His eyes darted from her to Darwin again, "Y-yeah, I . . . I'm fine," he said, and his face relaxed somewhat. "I guess I must still be a little tired. I fell out of my bunkbed, even," he added on quick laugh. "So . . . anyway, sis. I was thinking about what you said last night and I think you're right. About Mom's plate, I mean."

Anais felt her eyebrows raise. Gumball _had_ heard what she told him after all. Was _this_ the reason for his momentary worry?

Within a minute, Anais and her big brother made their way downstairs and found their mother in the kitchen. She was dressed in her pink bathrobe and, as Anais had feared, looked very angry. Her arms were crossed and her eyes held that icy gleam which warned Anais to be careful not to invoke her mother's wrath.

"Mom?" Gumball said, holding up his hands in a sign of peace. "I know you're angry and have every right to be, but, please, just listen and I'll tell you what happened."

Nicole glared for a second, then said, "All right. I'm listening."

The apology Gumball gave was, to Anais' pink bunny ears, totally sincere. If she didn't know any better, she would've thought her brother was close to tears.

"And I have Anais to thank for getting me to come down and tell you," said Gumball, his face one of humility and shame. "I probably would've gone and said something stupid if I didn't listen to her."

Nicole looked sharply to Anais, who gave a confirming nod.

"Oh . . . all right, Gumball," Nicole said with a grumbling sigh. "I wish you would've been more careful, but as long as you admit to what you—"

"Thank you!" said Gumball cheerfully, bowing his head. "And I will be careful from now on. Now, if it's okay, I need to go and tell Darwin something important, too. Can I go?" he asked her.

Nicole said nothing at first, but then nodded stiffly.

A few minutes later at breakfast, Anais was eating Daisy Flakes with her brothers while their mother ate a piece of buttered toast with her coffee.

Darwin had looked rattled about something when he came downstairs — something about his and Gumball's science report. But amazingly, a few words from Gumball were all it took for Darwin to calm down. There was still a trace of shocked surprise in his face, but otherwise he looked all right.

Anais took pride in the peace that resided over her family. Mom had not acted viciously to Gumball, and, what was more, Gumball had been honest in telling their mother that it was she, Anais, who persuaded him to come down and apologize. The satisfaction Anais felt was bliss: she had managed to convince her brother to be honest and succeeded in keeping him out of trouble. How could she stay angry with him now? The weekend and all its annoyances were already in the past.

Smiling in Gumball's direction, she took another bite of the sweet, crunchy cereal and silently enjoyed the peaceful morning.

Five minutes in, Dad came downstairs, sporting a brand new red necktie.

"So, Gumball?" Richard asked eagerly. "What do _you_ think?"

Gumball looked up at the tie and said, "Very nice, Dad. Red looks good on you."

"Ahhh, thanks," said Richard, and he seemed particularly happy at this compliment, Anais noticed.

* * *

><p>Anais didn't meet up with her brothers again until the Pep Fest that afternoon. The three of them sat together on the bleachers along with Rachel, surrounded by Elmore's other students. All in all, Anais had to agree with Gumball: there was definetly a lot of thrill to be had. The football team was invigorating, the two-on-twelve Tug-of-War was hilarious, and Anais even managed to grab a glow-stick along with some candy.<p>

But perhaps the most impressive of all was Penny and the cheerleaders, who put on a spectacular routine. The paper bear girl (Anais didn't know her name) seemed a bit shaky in one leg, which looked crinkled, but otherwise the cheerleaders all did very good.

Gumball hopped from his seat and began to cheer and hoot with great excitement. Anais, animated by the routine and the surrounding applause, jumped up in her own seat and joined along with her big brother.

Though he might be strange and a bit annoying at times, when it came down to it, Gumball knew how to have a good time.

* * *

><p>When they arrived home afterwards, Anais asked Gumball if he wanted to watch TV with her and Darwin for a while. But he shook his head and instead went straight up to his bedroom, a pondering look on his face.<p>

Anais didn't think much about this at first, but as the evening approached, she was surprised to hear Gumball turn down their mother's offer to help cook dinner. Cooking was one of the few things Anais knew for certain that Gumball was very good at, and what was more, Gumball loved cooking with Mom. When asked why he wasn't in the mood, Gumball simply said he needed to think about something in his room and didn't want to be disturbed.

The idea that Gumball needed time alone to think of something important . . . Anais knew then that something was up.

Whatever it was, however, stayed with Gumball into the darkening evening, because just as Anais was about to voice the question, Gumball announced that he didn't feel like watching the football game between Elmore and Seymore, even though it meant missing a chance to see Penny cheer on TV. If Anais didn't know any better, she would've thought Gumball knew Elmore would lose, which they did.

Finally, when the lights went out and her parents went upstairs to bed, Anais changed into her favorite pink footie pajamas and then went to knock on her brother's door.

"Yeah, sis?" Gumball answered, rubbing his left shoulder. He was wearing his night clothes.

"Gumball, are you okay?" asked Anais.

"Yeah, sis, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. . . . You just seem . . . preoccupied. Didn't you have fun at the Pep Fest?"

"Of course I did. I had a lot fun," he answered. "I just have a couple things on my mind right now, that's all."

"Want to talk about them?"

For a moment Gumball seemed to consider.

Then Anais added, "Is your shoulder bothering you?"

"What? No, no!" said Gumball, and he tore his hand away from his shoulder very quickly. "I guess I just wore myself out today. I spent the whole weekend thinking about the Pep Fest, so . . . you know, my energy probably needs to reboot."

Anais stared at him. She had a deep inkling there was something else on Gumball's mind, but she wasn't going to trouble him about it, at least not right now.

"Okay," she said. "Well, good night then, Gumball. I'm really glad you had a good day."

"Yeah. Me too."

And with that, Anais turned and began her way back down the hall, but stopped when Gumball called after her. "Sis?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks again for helping me," he said with a soft look in his eyes. "I really appreciate it. You know that, right?"

Anais smiled gently. "Of course I do."

And with that, Gumball closed his bedroom door with a matching smile of his own.

For one brief moment, Anais stood there in the quiet, empty hallway, staring back at her brothers' room, debating whether she should go back and insist Gumball to talk about what was on his mind. Though he said he was doing all right, and even looked all right, Anais knew her brother well enough to know when something was bothering him.

But then she remembered the smile they both shared and decided that she would try in the morning instead. Who knows? Maybe Gumball would be fine after a good night's sleep. He woke up today with common sense running through his head, maybe it'll happen again.

Closing the door to her own room, Anais laid down on her bed and switched off her bedside lamp. In the dark, except for her Daisy the Donkey nightlight, she hoped whatever was on Gumball's mind wasn't anything serious, because, as Anais sadly knew from experience, Gumball wasn't exactly the smartest person when it came to solving problems.

"That's why he's got me," Anais whispered, and as she closed her eyes, she gave a proud, gentle smile.

* * *

><p><em>(Nicole)<em>

Nicole spent the first five minutes of her Monday morning gently slapping her face. She, like the rest of her family, wasn't keen on getting up this early, but, really, it was the only way they could all have breakfast AND spend some time together before she had to go to work and the kids to school. And besides, given how stubborn her family could be (especially Richard), this may be the only way to insure nobody was late.

She stepped forward to her bedroom window and peered out at the brilliant blue dawn stretching over the neighborhood. It looked like it would be another beautiful day.

"Richard," Nicole said gently, tapping her husband on the side. "Richard, time to get up."

He grunted and turned over to face the bed's other side.

Glaring, Nicole said, "Richard, get up now or no breakfast!"

At this, Richard rolled back over and opened his reluctant eyes. "Right now?"

"Yes, right now!" said Nicole in her I'm-the-Boss voice. "I'm going downstairs to make some coffee. Your new tie is sitting over there on the dresser. I wrote down the instructions on how to tie it."

Opening the bedroom door, she stopped abruptly on her way out and added, "Oh, and Richard? Remember, it isn't a clip-on, so be careful not to choke yourself."

As Nicole made her way downstairs to the living room, her blue cat ears twitched at the sounds coming from overhead. The first was the familiar buzz of Gumball and Darwin's alarm, the second belonged to Anais' little footsteps going down the hall, and the third, which made Nicole giggle, was Richard letting out a loud, drawn-out yawn which sounded like it belonged to a large furry animal — you know, one that wasn't an oversized rabbit.

Nicole portioned some ground coffee and heated up the pot in the kitchen. She could still hear the sounds of footsteps through the ceiling, one set being quite heavy, the others much lighter.

And then, without warning, Nicole heard something that sounded like a very faint crash. It didn't come from upstairs, nor anywhere else in the house. It came towards the front door. She was just about to step out and check through the living room's window, when . . .

Nicole froze very sharply in midstep and looked up at the fridge. As she had moved to leave the kitchen, she caught glimpse of a brief glimmer off a smooth, polished surface . . . .

Nicole's throat seemed to close up. Knowing full well what it must be, but not understanding how it could be, Nicole reached, pulled herself up, and saw what laid hidden atop the fridge.

She let out a gasp.

Speechless, she pulled the small saucer from its spot and dropped back to the floor. She held the plate delicately in her hands, temporarily struck with horror.

The saucer was broken . . . split down the middle with the two pieces glued crudely together.

How could this have happened? Nicole asked herself, breathing slowly. For years she had been so careful, for years nothing so much as a scratch had touched these plates, these family treasures, these symbols that have lasted for so long. How could — ?

Nicole went rigid. She stared at the broken saucer more closely. Beyond what looked like cookie crumbs from the batch she had made on Saturday, there, laying in the glue, was a clue. She pinched it between her fingers and brought it up to the light.

It was a short blue cat hair...and it wasn't hers.

Horrible hot flaming anger began to burn inside Nicole, but before she could do so much as grit her teeth, she heard someone rushing down the stairs. Judging by the pressure in the steps, they belonged to one of the kids. And, sure enough, Gumball appeared in the kitchen doorway a moment after.

"I did it!" he blurted out, and his expression looked beyond sorrow and guilt. It was outright frantic.

"What—?" but Nicole was cut off as Gumball ran towards her and fell to his knees.

"I'm sorry! It was an accident! I just wanted a cookie and didn't want to make a mess! I should've listened to you better yesterday! I don't know why I didn't, I just didn't!"

Nicole's fury vanished completely. Her mouth had fallen open as Gumball continued to plead; he sounded desperate, almost as though he were expecting physical punishment.

"Gumball. Gumball, calm down!" Nicole said, loud enough to be heard over Gumball's cries. "Honey, stop! Just take a deep breath!"

He took several. And when he was calm, Nicole took a deep breath herself. Regardless that she was concerned for Gumball, she wasn't about to forget her plate just yet.

"Okay," she said calmly but firmly. "Now, Gumball," she looked him straight in the eye, "I would like you, please, to stand up and tell me, why is my plate like this?" She held it up for Gumball to see.

At once, Gumball got up off the floor and began, his head bowed. "I wasn't paying attention when you told us why those plates meant so much to you. So, when I decided to have a snack before bed last night, I grabbed one of your plates. I didn't want to make a mess and they were the closest thing for me to grab. And when I tried to put it back . . . well . . . I wasn't paying attention then, either . . . and it broke . . . ."

"And you tried gluing it back together?" asked Nicole.

"Yeah . . . ."

"And you thought trying to hide it away would keep you out of trouble?"

He bowed his head even lower at her firm tone, and said, very softly, "Yes."

Nicole said nothing more. The kitchen was completely quiet now. She could hear cars driving down the road outside. Richard sounded like he was fumbling upstairs with his necktie. And, looking over her son, Nicole saw Anais glancing in on them from around the doorway. She looked deeply concerned.

Finally, Nicole sighed. As much as these plates meant to her, she just couldn't find any spark of anger inside her now. Gumball had come down and confessed to her. He apologized. He told the truth about what happened and was clearly sorry for it. And, from how Nicole pictured it, it really did sound like it was just an accident.

"Gumball," she said, "please look at me."

He did so, and Nicole could tears leaking out onto his cheeks.

"Gumball," she said, "I won't lie when I say that I'm a bit disappointed. I thought I made it clear when I told you what these plates meant to me and our family. Like the memories they hold, they are irriplacable and precious. And when I think of how you handled this one and reacted so mindlessly when it broke . . . well . . . I just don't know."

Gumball bowed his head again, and sniffled.

"But I accept your apology," said Nicole.

Gumball looked up, his damp eyes wide with surprise.

"I won't punish you so long as you make sure to treat my grandmother's plates with more care in the future. I am, after all, going to pass them on to you, Darwin, and Anais when you three get older. So, just be careful from now on, okay, sweetie?"

With a sniff, Gumball clasped his hands together. "Thank you, Mom! And I promise, I will be more careful."

Before another word could be said, Gumball zipped out of the kitchen and quickly reappared.

"By the way, Mom! One more thing." Gumball grabbed Anais' arm and pulled her into view. "Anais was the one who told me to come down and apologize. I probably wouldn't have if she didn't tell me. So I have her to thank, just so you know."

And with that final word, Gumball turned and left the kitchen. By the sound of it, he ran back up the stairs, leaving Nicole and Anais alone.

"Morning, sweetie," she said kindly. "How are you?"

"Okay," said Anais, and she looked off in the direction where her brother had left. "Gumball looked really scared back there."

"Yeah . . ." said Nicole, her smile disappearing. "I noticed."

Anais was more than right. The way Gumball had pleaded on his knees reformed inside Nicole's mind. The look on her son's face had been so horrible, Nicole felt like crying herself. Did Gumball really think she would have done something bad to him?

_How could he?_ she thought miserably. Doesn't Gumball know he's more important than any plate?

Doesn't he know he will always be _her_ little Gumball?

* * *

><p><em>(Richard)<em>

Richard stood in front of the bedroom mirror, beaming with satisfaction. It may have taken twenty minutes, he may have almost strangled himself, but his brand new necktie was finally tied and laying compossedly against his work shirt.

Only then did the sounds of chewing fill his large, pink rabbit ears, which meant only one thing: breakfast — his family having breakfast. Checking his red tie one last time in the mirror, making sure it was straight, Richard left the bedroom and walked downstairs to the dining room.

"HEY, everybody!" he called happily as he approached the table. "Good morning, family. Notice anything different?"

He held out his large pink arms expectantly and awaited the comments, especially those from Gumball.

Nicole, Darwin, and Anais looked from one another in what was apparent confusion. Nicole was obviously pretending to be clueless, but Anais and Darwin clearly didn't recognize the change Richard had made to his usual wardrobe. Gumball, however, looked very interested.

"Oh, come on," Richard grinned at the others, "you all must notice it."

"Boy, do we!" Gumball shouted excitedly, loud enough to make Richard jump a little in surprise.

Gumball leapt from his chair and gave his father a generous pat on the leg — his back was too high for him to reach.

"Your tie looks real good, Dad!" he said with a broad smile. "Really something else!"

"Ahhhh, thanks, Gumball," said Richard.

"Don't you agree, Mom?" Gumball asked. "Isn't it nice? Darwin? Anais? Isn't Dad's tie something great?"

At this, Richard's smile fell. Was it his imagination or did Gumball sound stressed? Richard knew perfectly well that he wasn't the smartest person in the world, or even the smartest person in the room, but he liked to think he knew his children well enough to know when they were troubled about something.

"Gumball, are you okay?" he asked.

"Okay?" repeated Gumball, and still his voice held an edge of extremity. "I'm great! Just fine! You have a new tie, Mom isn't mad at me for breaking her plate, and there's the Pep Fest today! Everything's absolutely, perfectly fine! Oh, look at the time!" He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder and pointed to the wall clock without looking at it. "I better get ready for school! See you all later! Great tie, Dad!"

And before Richard could even blink, Gumball had rushed up the stairs. But right as Gumball disappeared, Richard caught a glimpse of his son's blue furry face. It was in complete distress, boarding on panic.

Richard looked to Nicole, and both had the same expression and thought: something very serious was troubling their son.

* * *

><p>Gumball's attitude didn't improve after school, except that his frantic energy had died down a bit. But this lag in his step did nothing to improve his features. He looked as though all his happiness were slowly being sucked out of him.<p>

Eventually, Nicole couldn't stand watching her son look like this anymore. She and Richard approached his room at bedtime.

"Gumball, sweetie?" she asked, knocking on her son's door. Richard stood behind her.

Gumball, still dressed in his sweater and pants, opened the door. He looked exhausted.

From across the room, the two adults could see Darwin in his fishbowl, looking out at them with the same worry that they held.

"Gumball, is there something you want to talk about?" asked Nicole. "Something that's bothering you?"

Gumball stared at her, then dropped his gaze to the ground, then looked back up at his parents. "No," he said flatly. "Don't worry, I'm fine. Today . . . today just didn't turn out how I would've liked it."

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie," said Nicole with sympathy. "Was the Pep Fest no fun?"

Gumball shrugged.

"What about Penny?" asked Richard, who knew of his son's crush as well as the rest of the family. "Weren't you happy to see her?"

"Of course I was," said Gumball. Nicole and Richard could both tell he was being honest, but there was a sadness to his voice that neither liked to hear.

"You know I'm not mad at you, right, sweetie?" asked Nicole.

Gumball looked up in wide-eyed surprise. "What?"

"I'm not mad at you for breaking my plate," Nicole specified. "They do mean a lot to me, but that was just one of many. Maybe I did feel a little angry at first, but that was just for the moment. Please don't beat yourself up over it. You did apologize after all, and I forgave you."

Gumball looked directly at her for several seconds. Finally, closing his eyes, he gave a small nod and an even quieter, "Thanks."

Knowing she wasn't going to get much else out of her son, and not feeling keen to try at the moment, Nicole said, "Good night, Gumball."

"Night, son," said Richard.

"Night," Gumball murmured, and he shut the door.

Nicole and Richard gave each other a short, worried look, then made their way back down the hall. They passed by Anais' room and saw her standing in the doorway, glancing towards Gumball and Darwin's bedroom.

"Honey, it's all right, go to bed," said Nicole softly. "Gumball's just a little disappointed. He'll be okay."

Without saying anything, Anais backed away and Nicole gently closed her daughter's door.

Back in their bedroom, Richard stood in the doorway while Nicole walked forward, her gaze on the floor.

"Richard . . . what do I do?" she asked. "Is it my fault? I know something's bothering him."

"He doesn't look like he wants to talk, though," Richard said, having no idea what to suggest.

"But _I_ have to," Nicole insisted, her voice breaking slightly. "I can't stand seeing him like that. I . . . I just can't . . . ."

For a moment nobody spoke. The bedroom felt as quiet as a crypt, empty of life. Then Richard spoke, "Would you like me to help you? Because I will, Nicole, if you think it'll help."

Nicole glanced at her husband, and she knew, without needing to ask, that he was being serious. As much as Richard liked avoiding stressful situations or anything that stole from his beloved carefree existence, Nicole felt grateful in seeing for herself that Richard, though lazy, truly cared about his family.

"Yes, Richard," said Nicole, smiling softly. "I think it'll be very important to Gumball that you be there too."

She walked forward and stroked her husband's large pink cheek.

"We'll talk to him together . . . tomorrow."

* * *

><p><strong>That's the end of Part I. Part II will be posted tomorrow (around 4:00 PM or so). See you all then!<strong>


	21. A Thousand MORE Tries, PART II

**DISCLAIMER**

**As always, I don't own a thing.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 21<strong>

_A Thousand MORE Tries (Part II)_

_(Carrie)_

Carrie floated into the cafeteria at lunchtime and gave her ghostly white hair a slight toss. It was just something she liked to do, she wasn't trying to attract attention — that was something she normally didn't care for: being a ghost was often enough to have people do double takes. It really got frustrating some days, having younger children run up to her and asking to say "Boo!"

She floated into the lunch line at the very back, having taken her time in getting here. It wasn't like there was anything to look forward to, being unable to eat and all. The main reason Carrie usually came to lunch was to hang out with her friends between classes. There was little doubt they would talk about anything other than the Pep Fest today, but even Carrie felt it would be something fun to discuss.

And there was also another reason...

The moment she heard the school would be serving chocolate mint cake, Carrie found herself unable to stop thinking how she might try and get a bite. She had tasted the cake once before during her past possessions, and it had, by far, been the best thing she ever tasted. The cool mint, the rich chocolate, the way it melted like warm ice in your mouth. And to think, it was now so close and she wouldn't get to eat it. . . .

Just her luck, Carrie told herself. She had gone through this disappointment many times before, so why get her hopes up now? It wasn't like there was anyone willing to help her. . . .

But oddly enough, Carrie had already been thinking about one such person a fair few times today.

Carrie's normally cool face went suddenly warm as the idea formed again inside her head. Her breathing slowed as she glanced from the stack of lunch trays over to a table with its lone occupant. Carrie stared at him for so long that she forgot she was in line.

"Carrie?" said Rocky from behind the food bar. "You need anything?"

"Huh? Oh, uh . . . yeah," she said. "Can I just have a slice of chocolate mint cake, please?"

Rocky stared at her questionably.

"You know . . ." Carrie said with a shrug, "just to look at."

Carrie felt a flush of embarrassment flow over her face. She knew there was little point in asking for food when everyone knew she couldn't eat. Yet Rocky, regardless of knowing this fact, gave a friendly smile and went to slice her a piece. She took the plate with the dessert, noticing it was a lot bigger than the other slices.

"Thanks," she said with a light smile.

Carrie floated out of the line, passed Mr. Small at his desk and hovered in the air, staring down at her slice of cake. It smelled fantastic: the rich chocolate, the cool minty frosted filling, the little bits of mint sprinkled on top. Her taste buds might be dead, but thank the afterlife for noses!

Carrie looked up again at Gumball. He was seated by himself at his and Darwin's usual table; Darwin was eating lunch with Rachel over at her usual spot. Compared to the surrounding classmates, all of them eating or talking, Gumball didn't have a lunch tray with him and was looking slightly tired.

Carrie's insides tickled at the sight of him. This had been happening more often lately, and Carrie was in no doubt why — the warm sensation she got in her cheeks and stomach whenever she thought of Gumball was enough of a giveaway. It didn't take a genius to connect the dots and see the full picture, though heaven forbid anyone manage it.

Looking down at the cake in her hands, Carrie's mind encouraged her to go ahead with her idea.

It'll be fine, she told herself. She had been practicing and now had much better control whenever she possessed someone. Surely Gumball will understand once she explained it to him. And who knows . . . if she played it right, Carrie might float away from this with more than just cake (if her nerves didn't fail her, that is).

Taking a deep breath, Carrie ran a hand over her white bangs and drifted across the cafeteria, passed her friends who were chatting about the Pep Fest, and stopped two feet from Gumball's table.

Already her ghostly pulse began to race. It was now or never.

"Hi, Gumball," said Carrie, fighting to keep a straight face as the tickling inside her stomach persisted.

Gumball didn't seem to hear her. He was still slumped forward with his hand pressed against his face, appearing somewhat bored.

"Gumball?" Carrie repeated, but still he didn't move. "You okay?"

Again, Gumball didn't look at her, though he did speak.

"Hey," he said in a very low, quiet voice.

Sensing that something was obviously wrong, Carrie felt her self-encouragement dwindle. Gumball obviously wasn't in a very happy mood; in fact, if Carrie had to guess, he might be suffering from something tragic, given how he was slumped over in his seat.

"Do you need something, Carrie?" he asked tiredly.

Finding her nerve again, Carrie swallowed, and, as calmly and cooly as she could handle, replied, "I was just wondering . . . if you don't mind, would you . . . would you help me eat this cake, please?"

Gumball's eyes glanced from her to the slice resting on its plate.

"I mean, you don't have to," said Carrie hasitily. She didn't want to sound persistant, not when Gumball might not be feeling up to it. "But . . . it's just that I really like chocolate mint cake, and I've been practicing my possessing. I can control myself much better now than the last time I did it with you. And so I was thinking . . . you know, if you don't mind . . . ."

Carrie couldn't help it; her cheeks were starting to go red — she could feel it.

Gumball let out a very deep sigh.

Carrie felt numbness fill her ghostly stomach. Of course it had been too much to hope for. Gumball surely wouldn't have forgotten the last time he let her to use his body to eat. And what was worse, Carrie had fooled not only herself, but also her heart. There was no way Gumball would ever —

"All right, I'll do it."

Carrie looked up in surprise. "Huh?"

"I'll help you eat your cake," Gumball replied tiredly.

"You . . . you mean it?" asked Carrie. She could feel elation building inside her.

"Yeah," said Gumball cooly. "Go ahead." He sat up staright, took a deep breath and closed his eyes, ready for the possession.

"Thank you! Oh, thank you!" said Carrie, her voice trembling with happiness.

And, not wasting a second more, she flew forward and entered.

There was a moment of pitch black as Carrie's sight vanished and a strange, tingly sensation flowed down her arms and into the legs she did not own. She could feel her skull and jaw realigning as she took on Gumball's cat body and felt a tail poking down out of her spine.

Carrie's vision became clear. Everyone in the cafeteria was still eating and chatting amongst themselves; none of them seemed to have noticed anything. She was now sitting at the table, the beautiful slice of cake laying in front of her. The fur on her hands had turned from blue to a sickly green and her breathing filled her lungs in rasps. The muslces in her arms and legs felt whole and solid. The soft fabric of Gumball's sweater was pressed comfortably to her torso and back. She felt...she felt...

Carrie frowned. Her hunger died as a swirling array of emotion flooded into her brain. Monotony, depression, frustration, sadness, self-loathing, confusion — it was bombarding her synapses as it rushed down her throat and into her heart. It was discomfort like she never felt before, in this life or any other she might have experienced.

Unable to tolerate it, Carrie forced herself from the muscles she controlled and flew out of Gumball's skin.

Gumball gave a trembling shiver and his appearance settled back to normal, a slight dizzying look on his face.

"Gumball . . ." Carrie was floating next to him, all thought of eating the cake driven out of her mind. "What . . . what was . . ."

Gumball sighed and said, "Oh, it's nothing, Carrie. I'm just not in the highest of spirits."

He stood up from the table and began to walk away. Carrie watched him head for the cafeteria's exit. She was still stunned by what she had experienced in Gumball's body. The feelings he held, the feelings she had felt were more numbing than any Carrie had felt in a long time. Gumball's tired expression might have been a smile compared to what was happening on the inside.

_Go!_ she thought urgently. _Go after him and help! Don't leave him to feel like that!_

Without needing to think twice, Carrie grabbed her cake and shot for the closing doors.

Outside in the hall, Gumball was dragging his feet as he moved away, slouching as though he were weighed down by some invisible backpack. The sight of him made Carrie feel hollow.

She flew forward and stopped in front of him, blocking his way.

"Gumball, what is wrong?" she asked, and she was surprised to hear how worried she sounded. "You feel . . . well, you felt horrible back there."

Gumball, his arms drooping like wilted flowers, let out a sigh and said, "I guess I could be doing better."

"Maybe a bite of cake will help?" said Carrie, and she held out the soft, minty slice before him. He clearly needed the deliciousness more than she did, and Carrie was more than happy to provide it.

Gumball gave the cake a dismayed look and then gently pushed it back. "No thanks, Carrie. I'm really not hungry right now. If you want, you can try using my body again."

Carrie immdiatly replied, "No! No, that's all right." She wouldn't have stepped back into Gumball's body for all the chocolate mint cake on earth...at least, not with him feeling like he was now.

Perhaps Gumball knew what Carrie was thinking about, because his eyes dropped to the dirty school floor. "Did you hear anything you didn't like when you went inside me?" he asked.

"No," said Carrie, honestly. "But I did feel . . . a lot of things."

Gumball said nothing.

"Uh . . . Gumball?" said Carrie. "Is there anything you want to talk about? I mean, if you don't want to, I'll understand, but . . . maybe I can help you."

Carrie felt her face go warm again, though thankfully she didn't blush (at least, she hoped not).

Then she dreaded whether she would be able to help at all. She, after all, didn't normally talk about emotions. Being a ghost, emotions came to Carrie kind of shakily. Although . . . she had always been able to talk openly with Gumball, even when they were in preschool. Despite that others thought her strange and even spooky for the way she was, Gumball always talked to her like she were a normal person, and he always listened to her regardless and tried to help whenever he could.

If only he could know how much that meant to her . . . .

Gumball continued to stare at her, almost pityingly. Carrie could feel herself growing warmer, a warmth that only Gumball ever made her experience. Trying her best to ignore it lest a blush betray her, she waited patiently.

Finally, after what seemed like a whole five minutes in the totally quiet hallway, Gumball shook his head.

"No, Carrie," he said, drearily. "I really don't see the point in trying to talk."

"You won't know if you don't try!" said Carrie, now a little impatient. "What do you have to lose by just talking? You know you can confide in me, Gumball!"

She froze, her eyes widening. She hadn't meant to speak so passionately.

"But I _have_, Carrie," said Gumball, gloomly. "I _have_ talked about it with you before, and that didn't help then. It only made you feel sad . . . and I don't want that. Now, please, excuse me. I have a writing assignment to do in the library."

Confused, her neglected cake still in her hands, Carrie watched Gumball step around her and trudge away down the hall, disappearing around the corner. Her gaze sinking to the floor, Carrie's white bangs fell into her face, and she couldn't find the reason to fling them aside.

She didn't think it were possible, but she felt colder and more miserable than usual. These feelings were nothing new to Carrie: it came with being a ghost, it was just something she normally lived with. And yet, despite what she was, there had always been a unique, most wonderful ray of light in her life that made her feel warm and happy.

Looking at him today though, the light may very well have dwindled and died, and that, without a doubt, was the worst feeling in the world.

* * *

><p><em>(Penny)<em>

The school bus pulled to a steady halt right outside the Watterson's house. Penny, with her white pom-poms resting on her lap, leaned in her bus seat and glanced out the window in hopes of catching a glimpse of Gumball and his siblings.

She could see Anais standing there on the sidewalk, but could only make out the side edges of Gumball and Darwin's heads.

Penny stared more intently through the glass. She was only guessing, but from the way Anais was looking over at her two brothers, Penny thought there was something troubling her. And, when the bus doors opened and the Watterson siblings stepped on, Penny immediately saw why. The sight in front of her was, indeed, a troubling one.

Gumball dragged his feet down the bus' aisle, his posture sagging, looking as though he had lived a thousand years without peace. The depressing sight of him seemed to catch the whole bus' attention as every eye followed him towards the backseat.

When he came close enough, Penny reached out her hand.

"Gumball?" she asked softly. "Are you okay?"

Gumball didn't stop, but did give her a side glance, and there was nothing but sadness in those eyes.

When the bus started moving again, everyone gave a light shrug to Gumball's morning gloom and went back to other random things. Tobias and Banana Joe were practicing armpit farts, Jamie was punching the air while chatting with Tina, and, in the very back, Carrie was glancing every so often towards the backseat.

The hollowness Penny felt in her peanut shell, growing like a sharp lead weight, grew even worse at every bump and turn the bus made, because each time they happened, she felt compelled to look over her shoulder at Gumball, only to turn back again feeling worse than before.

It was as though the blue cat sitting in the backseat had never met Gumball Watterson, had never seen him smile, or heard him laugh, or knew just how joyful and wonderful Gumball really was . . . how Penny knew he was.

* * *

><p>Penny couldn't have asked for a more depressing day, let alone have it be the same one she and her friends performed a cheer routine.<p>

As she and the cheerleaders walked to Miss Simian's first class, Carmen instructed them to let go of all stressful thoughts and focus on bringing up their spirit for the afternoon. For Penny, though, this request proved impossible.

No matter how she tried forcing herself, Penny couldn't take her eyes away from Gumball. Though she sat in the desk behind him and thus couldn't see his face, even Gumball's back seemed to moan with depression as he slouched forward, his head resting on his folded arms. He was dead quiet all through the morning except during a pop quiz, when Miss Simian asked him to state the six Noble Gases, which he did correctly, though in a very drab voice.

The very air around Gumball seemed to tell everyone he wasn't interested in talking. Even Darwin, who received an F for not having his name down on their science report, left his brother alone. Whether he did so out of anger or pity, Penny didn't know; she couldn't read Darwin like she could Gumball.

When the bell rang for lunch, Penny approached the two brothers in the hallway as the rest of the class walked off.

"Gumball?" she asked. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," he said in a tone so dreary there was no possible way he could be fine.

"Did something happen?" Penny asked Darwin.

"I don't know," he said. "He's been like this since this morning. I tried talking to him, but he won't say anything."

And at these words, Penny knew the situation was even worse than she thought. From the first day she had met them all those years ago, Gumball and Darwin always did everything together. She lost count of the times they've confided in each other or helped the other out of some trouble, or, to the contrary, assisted the other in some trouble. But no matter how things were, no matter what they faced, the two brothers always had each other, for better or worse.

Deciding then that a little firm love was needed, Penny stepped in front of Gumball and blocked his way.

"Gumball," Penny said firmly. "I don't know what's bothering you, but I can tell you sulking like this won't help. Me and Darwin can, though. Just tell us, please, what is wrong?"

Gumball lifted his gaze and stared right at her. Penny had the uncomfortable impression she was looking into the eyes of an old man, worn by time and weakened by despair.

"What is wrong?" Gumball repeated gloomily. "What's wrong, Penny, is that nothing works for me."

Just as Penny opened her mouth to express her bewilderment, Gumball continued in that deadpanned tone which did not belong to him.

"I thought I finally figured it out. I did everything I could. I said I was sorry, I acted thankful, I tried to be supportive, I did my best to fix everything . . . and I want nothing more than to join you all and be happy. But nothing works. . ."

Penny didn't have a clue in her antlered head what Gumball was talking about. Darwin looked no better as he stood there listening, limp with worry.

"I wake up and nothing I do seems to matter," Gumball continued, his voice breaking. "I really am trying . . ."

"Gumball . . . ." Penny was now feeling quite alarmed, and without hesitating, she took Gumball's blue hand in both of hers.

His eyes widened at this unexpected action.

"Please, Gumball," Penny said gently. "I can tell you're sad about something, and I don't like it. Whatever's happening, I'm sure it's not as bad as you think it is.

"Believe me, I have bad days, too. Sometimes I feel how you feel now, thinking nothing matters and that there is no point. It can get so bad that I don't even feel like myself anymore. But you know what?" she added, her tone changing to one of hope. "I stop and realize that however bad today might be, there's always tomorrow. Tomorrow things will be better, and I'll do my best to see that it is. And I won't be alone in it, either. I'll have everyone I care about with me: my mom, dad, sister, friends . . . and I'll have you . . ." She tightened her grip on Gumball's hand. "I will know how good everything really is, because I have all of you . . . .

"So . . ." Penny made a brave attempt at a smile. "Gumball, can you wait for tomorrow . . . for me?"

Gumball didn't answer. He wasn't exactly miserable anymore, but he was nowhere near as encouraged as Penny would've liked. He still had that air about him that told Penny there was something dreadful hanging inside of him, something sharp and hard that not even she could force away.

With what looked like a heavy heart, Gumball patted Penny's hand and pulled his away.

"Penny . . . I wish I could say everything you said," he told her. "I wish I could be as hopeful as you. I would love more than anything to see tomorrow with you and everyone else . . . but this is as far as I can go . . . it's as good as I can do. And for that, I am sorry."

He inhaled a deep sigh that sounded on the verge of a sob, then said, "You both better get going or all the food's going to be taken."

In pained defeat, Penny and Darwin watched him walk away. Her eyes burning, her spirit so weak she could hardly breathe, Penny heard Gumball cheerlessly say, "Hi, Carrie," just as he turned the corner and disappeared completely.

* * *

><p><em>(Rachel)<em>

Rachel put her lunch tray down on a table next to a window and sat down. She took a few bites of pasta, which she supposed was all right — you know, for school food — and was eagerly on the watch for Darwin.

It was funny, how affection works. Never in her life had Rachel imagined that she, an eighth grader, would develop feelings for someone of the lower grades. The very idea would've been the equivalent of popularity suicide. Rachel couldn't afford any risk to her public image, especially with how the "popular crowd" tended not to show up, no doubt uninterested because of anything which didn't match their idea of perfection. But with Darwin, Rachel found, to her surprise, that she couldn't care less what those popular snobs thought.

Darwin was sweet, caring, and — she blushed — very cute. He was always happy to talk to her and didn't care how popular she was. True, he was a bit strange at times (literally being a fish out of water), but what did that matter? Darwin liked her and Rachel liked him.

Smirking and shaking her head, Rachel took a bite of chocolate mint cake and savored the taste.

It really was funny, how affection works. That cactus girl in Darwin's grade — Carmen was it? — has a crush on a talking balloon. Miss Simian, a dreadful, nasty teacher had feelings for fair-minded, likable Principal Brown. And Gumball . . . .

Rachel slapped her hand to her face and started to laugh. When it came to romance, Gumball was more lucky than most boys could imagine, and the funniest part of all, he didn't seem to realize how lucky he was.

As Rachel waited for Darwin, she glanced around the cafeteria and watched Mr. Small take down a few of her class' guesses at how many coffee beans were in the 10 gallon water jug.

Rachel hadn't bothered taking a guess. The prizes were probably just a bunch of junk Tobias and his old babies would like, she thought derisively.

By the time she was halfway through her food, Rachel spotted Darwin making his way down the lunch line. It was Tina's loud dinosaur stomps that alerted the whole room to the arrival of Miss Simian's class.

Rachel smiled expectantly as Darwin approached her, but her grin vanished quickly as he sat down beside her.

"Hi, Rachel," said Darwin, looking quite down in the dumps.

"Darwin, you okay?" Rachel asked.

"No," he said simply. "Something's going on with Gumball."

"What about him?" Though Rachel didn't think very much about Gumball, she knew how much Darwin loved him. Honestly, the way he talked about his brother while they were together made Rachel feel slightly jealous at how good their brotherhood was, as compared to hers and Tobias'.

"Well . . ." said Darwin, scratching the back of his orange head with his fin. "I don't know. He's not talking much. Mrs. Mom, Mr. Dad, and Anais were really worried about him this morning. Just now, before I came in, Penny and Carrie asked me what was wrong, but I don't know what to tell them. Not entirely sure why Carrie asked."

"Yeah . . . I wonder," Rachel said nonchalantly, knowing perfectly well why Carrie was worried. "Did something happen to him recently?"

"Well . . . yeah, a lot has happened . . . ."

He told Rachel everything that happened that morning: their mom's broken china plate, their dad and something about Gumball ignoring his new neck tie, and worst of all, at least in Rachel's opinion, Gumball forgetting Darwin's name on their science report, resulting in him failing.

"Serves him right!" said Rachel hotly. "He _should_ feel bad about that! And after all the work you put into it? Just let him sit and feel guilty!"

"Rachel," said Darwin with gentle seriousness, "this isn't just about my grade. Gumball was like this when he woke up, _before_ we got our grades this morning."

"But aren't you mad he forgot your name?"

"Not as much as I was at first. I mean, look at him," he said, pointing his fin off to the side.

Rachel followed it and found Gumball sitting alone a few tables away. He looked a total mess. He was slouched over, his blue head resting on the table, his arms sprawled out in front of him. He had the air of someone who had been dumped, beaten up, abandoned, denied happiness, lost respect — in short, was depressed like only the miserable could feel or much worse.

"Whoa," Rachel said, now genuinely concerned.

"I know," said Darwin gloomily.

Rachel, feeling her appetite disappear at Darwin's expression, looked around desperately for a change of subject, but thought that would be insensitive.

But then her eyes caught sight of something that seemed to show some hope.

"Oh, look, Darwin!" said Rachel, pointing in Gumball's direction. "Penny and Carrie are going up to talk to him."

Darwin looked up. As Rachel had guessed, Penny and Carrie were now trying to console Gumball. A moment passed with Rachel and Darwin watching the two girls, but, from how Gumball remained dead-like in his seat, Rachel didn't think Penny or Carrie were having much luck.

Not knowing what else to say, Rachel said, "I'm sure things will get better. Don't worry about it, Darwin. Wait 'til the Pep Fest. I'm sure Gumball will feel better by then."

But as Rachel dreaded, Gumball's demeanor did not improve in the slightest. He didn't even look up from the bleachers to watch the ongoing celebration. He might have thought he was completely alone, the way he was slouching.

Gritting her teeth, feeling quite impatient, Rachel muttered, "For crying out loud, cheer up! Stop acting like a baby! You're making Darwin feel bad!"

Gumball looked her in face, and, with a heart so heavy it could sink a ship, said, "I know. It seems that's all I can do lately . . . ."

He dropped his gaze again to his feet, leaving Rachel silent and drained of Pep.

Rachel tried one last time on the bus going home. She was sitting beside Carrie who was looking thoroughly miserable (more than usual). Darwin and Anais were both as silent and dreary, both having given up trying to get Gumball to talk to them.

"Oh, come on, Gumball!" Rachel said to him, turning in her bus seat. "You're normally so happy! Seriously, it's almost annoying to watch you smile in your stupid misadventures. Whatever's bothering you, I'm sure it'll die down by tomorrow. So just wait until then, okay?"

And for the second time that day, Gumball lifted his sight towards her and spoke. "What's the point of waiting for something that never comes?"

Rachel, baffled at this question, didn't give an answer.

* * *

><p>So that was it, wasn't it? The end of the road . . . .<p>

His mother's shouting, his sister's glares, his father's tears, his brother's anger, and Penny constantly being disappointed. . . . This, other than Carrie floating away with a little more droop than usual, was all Gumball noticed anymore. Everything else about today was so bland he found himself going temporarily blind and deaf. Moments would pass in which he would fall limp and sleepy, and every time he opened his eyes it would all start again, more tedious than the last.

Sitting alone in his bedroom, his whole family angry with him for things he could not mend, Gumball fell backwards onto his lower bunk. He stared up at the top bunk's underside, his eyes roaming over the angles and spaces in the bed's frame, listening to himself breath through his nose.

He didn't get up as it got dark, nor did he go down to dinner when his mother furiously called him.

While his whole family went to bed, he remained where he was, splayed out on his bunk, fully dressed, not feeling the slightest bit tired.

His eyes moved slowly in their sockets and glanced the alarm clock from across the blackened room. Its glowing numbers read 11:00.

Sighing, Gumball painfully sat himself up and got to his feet, but no sooner had he stood up, he fell right back again onto the lower bunk.

What was the point? he told himself. He was going to be up there in the top bunk when the morning came anyway. It'll happen whether he was up there or not, just as his family will keep getting angry and everything will keep being his fault. It didn't matter what he did — nothing made any difference.

All Gumball could do now was think ahead. There was no point in thinking about the past and he had had enough of today to last a few hundred lifetimes. The future was the only thing he had left to keep himself from going totally crazy. Or maybe he was already crazy . . . the future wasn't coming after all, so what was there to look forward to? He had been stupid enough to believe he had actually figured out what to do, and look at where it's gotten him: nowhere.

His eyes became heavier as the minutes dragged by.

The black mark on his shoulder had stopped throbbing at last as though it had finally made its mark and its carrier had finally accepted defeat. As midnight neared and his mind began drifting into the black, Gumball couldn't hold it back anymore. He _was_ defeated. He was through.

No matter what he did, no matter how he approached it, no matter what reparations were made, the results Gumball desperately hoped for never came. The Loop was permanent . . . It was hopeless.

The was no way out.

* * *

><p><strong> I hope you all enjoyed these two chapters. Things aren't looking good for Gumball, but these meloncoly feelings are nothing compared to what I have planned next. The story is halfway over, but there are still a few chapters left before the ending. Or...maybe I shouldn't end this fanfic... Maybe, to go with the nature of time passing by and soul-crushing disappointment, maybe I should keep it going...forever...<strong>

** NAH! I'll write an ending for it. See you all later!**


	22. No Way Out

**I know, it's been three months again, and I'm sorry for these long updates. Like I said, I am currently writing another fanfiction (which I started last July), not to mention I just updated two of my stories on FimFiction. But I haven't forgotten about good ol' Gumball! Who could, really? Anyway, here's the next chapter. You might want to get something to drink while reading: this chapter is quite a long one.**

**WARNING**: the following chapter contains scenes that involve potentially dangerous and completely irrational means to solve personal problems. **Do not**, under any circumstances whatsoever, attempt anything you are about to read — they will all result in the same way . . . pretty much.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22<strong>

_No Way Out_

Like a rooster that was doomed to crow every time it saw the sun, the alarm clock let off its irritating buzz at 6:20. Gumball awoke from the top bunk, his eyes feeling bloodshot and his face screwed up in a dreary frown. He fell lazily to the carpet below, dragged his feet across the room, and slapped his hand down on the button, killing the alarm.

And then he waited. Over his shoulder, the golden sunlit square from the window shinned into the room like a bright spotlight.

From behind, right on cue, the bedroom door opened.

"Morning, Gumball." Anais sounded the same as she always did: her tone reasonably friendly, accompanied by a soft yawn.

Gumball didn't reply, but kept his back turned.

Then there came the familiar sloshing from a fishbowl. Darwin had emerged to speak his first line of dialouge for the day.

"Morning, buddy," he said happily, accompanied with the familiar sound of dripping water.

Gumball sighed miserably, turned around, and walked from the room without looking at his brother or sister, sagging as he went.

Everything about the morning played out like clunkly clockwork: the broken plate and Nicole's fury, Daisy Flakes for breakfast and the constant movement of jaws going up and down, Richard and his pointless red tie, wrapped neatly around his neck. It all came and went, robotic and excruciatingly dull.

Having not spoken a single word all morning, Gumball looked up from the table's shiny brown surface. His untouched bowl of Daisy Flakes was now soggy and mushy, and the rest of his family had left the table and gone to their bedrooms to prepare for the new day.

Sighing, Gumball stepped out from his chair and walked into the kitchen. It was bright with warm sunshine, reflecting off the white refrigerator. He approached the counter, knelt down onto the floor, and opened the cabinet under the sink. Its door gave off a creaking moan. Inside, at the far end of the cabinet's shadowy corner, there laid a box. . . .

Gumball reached in and pulled it out. The small contents inside rattled as the box moved from its resting place.

He took a moment to read the label, and, for the first time that day, his mind was fully awake, and screaming.

_PUT IT BACK! DON'T BE STUPID! STOP! PUT-IT-BACK! PLEASE! THINK THIS THROUGH!_

His eyes shut tight, feeling as though there were something slimy and revolting in his mouth, Gumball swallowed hard and ignored the desperate thoughts. And why shouldn't he? He had tried everything. He had taken every possible route, talked to every last person, tried to make every amend that could be made. And after all that, nothing whatsoever had changed. In spite of all his efforts and desperation, Gumball might not have tried at all.

This was it, he knew it; this was as far as he was going to get in the Loop. Mr. Robinson had been wrong. There was no mistake to be fixed; there was no lesson to be learned; there was nothing but today, nothing before and nothing coming after.

Gumball was wasting his time, and he was tired of it. He had been trapped here long enough, had gone through all this far too many times, so why should he keep letting himself suffer? It made no sense to do so. . . .

Ignoring the fact that his hand seemed to be making every ounce of resistance it could, Gumball pulled a black garbage bag out from the cabinet and stuffed the box inside it. A few minutes later, he stood outside on the sidewalk with his siblings, waiting for the school bus.

It was a beautiful blue sky morning: warm, sunny, and tranquil.

_Same as always_. . . . Gumball thought with a groan.

As expected, Anais looked irritable. Her tiny arms were crossed and her eyes shifted from the street to Gumball every few seconds. Although, for some unexplained reason, she was not as grumpy as Gumball remembered. If it wasn't for the fact that he knew this day down to the last detail, he would've thought Anais looked slightly worried. . . .

"What's in the bag, Gumball?" Darwin asked, eyeing his brother's blank, bored face.

"Something for the Pep Fest," Gumball answered dully, without looking at Darwin.

"Can't be anything too exciting, with you talking the way you are now," said Anais, not sounding the slighest bit annoyed. "Honestly, Gumball, if you weren't talking or standing up, I would've thought you were dead."

Slowly, Gumball turned to look at her. It was strange how Anais' anger with him seemed to lessen in a few short seconds. . . .

"I'm not feeling too lively today, sis," Gumball responded indifferently. "I've come to see that the Pep Fest, much like everything else today, is really just a big mess of clutter, no big deal . . . nothing worth getting excited over. . . ."

At this, Anais and Darwin both shot him looks boarding on shock.

"Uh . . . Gumball?" said Darwin, an eyebrow raised. "You do realize that Penny's cheering today, right?"

"Yeah," said Gumball matter-of-factly, his voice boarding on monotone.

"The same Penny you're in love with?" Anais clarified. "The same Penny you talked about all weekend, daydreaming and going starry-eyed every chance you got?"

"Yeah," Gumball repeated, his eyes half-open.

Dumbstruck, Darwin and Anais stared at each other.

"Gumball . . . did you sleep okay?" asked Darwin.

Gumball shrugged. "I slept. . . ."

When the school bus stopped in front of the house, Gumball was the first one on. He trudged stiffly down the aisle: passed Banana Joe and Tobias, who were laughing while doing armpit farts; passed Penny, happily waving her white pom-poms in his direction; passed Carrie, her steady, carefree gaze following Gumball as he went by. He sat down in the middle of the back seat, staring ahead, not taking in a single person.

Darwin and Anais took their places at his sides, both exchanging concerned looks, unsure of what to do.

* * *

><p>Gumball didn't speak a single word all morning at school. He sat silently in his desk, feeling lifeless while staring at the blurred smudges on the chalkboard.<p>

"Watterson!" shouted Miss Simian for the third time. "Can't you hear me? I asked you to come up and state the six Noble Gases!"

Heaving a sigh, Gumball pushed himself up from his desk, turned to look at the class, and then stood there, deadpanned and still.

A few seconds ticked by. The whole class seemed to grow uncomfortable in the silence as though Gumball's gloom were something contagious.

"Well?" asked Miss Simian impatiently, her hands on her boney hips.

Still Gumball said nothing. All he did was stare and blink, his tired eyes roaming from face to face. Darwin, he noticed, looked slightly worried.

"What's wrong with you, Watterson?" snapped Miss Simian in her screechy voice. "Someone in your family die? Your loser mother, by any chance?"

Slowly and numbly, Gumball turned his head, and for a few uncomfortable moments, they just stared — Blue Cat and Grouncy, Wrinkley, Very Old Baboon. Then, without being told to, Gumball walked back to his seat and sat down, eyeing his desk's plain yellow surface, his fist pressed into his cheek.

The classroom was still dead quiet, so much so that the clock above the chalkboard seemed to creak with each passing tick. . . .

* * *

><p>Gumball walked sluggishly into the cafeteria and took nothing from the lunch line except for a napkin.<p>

"Hello, Gumball," said Mr. Small happily, seated at the end of the lunch line at his foldout table. "Want to take a guess at the coffee beans?"

Gumball's eyes roved over the plastic ten gallon jug.

In a dreary voice, he responded, "Zero."

His pen held in midair, Mr. Small frowned. "But . . ." He let out a faint laugh. "Come on, Gumball. You know it can't be—"

"Zero," he repeated dully. "It's empty, just like all of us. We may look full, but beyond our thin shells, we are all empty. The coffee gets us only so far. Day by day, the feel goes away. . . . Sooner or later, _all_ will be gone away . . . like ground coffee in the cold wind. . . ."

He walked off, leaving the counsler to stare speechlessly and to contemplate this new bleak philosophy.

Gumball sat alone at the same old table and bit into his napkin, where it stuck to his tongue. It chewed, at first, like a piece of rubber, but when shredded enough, it went down like small bits of string, papery and dry.

"Gumball?"

He looked up. It was Penny and Carrie.

"Gumball . . . are you all right?" asked Penny, eyeing him confusedly.

"I'm fine," he said, a few white, papery pieces hanging from his lips. "Why do you ask?"

"You're eating a napkin," Carrie answered.

He looked down at it.

"Yeah . . . I am. I've never tried one before, so today I thought . . . why not?"

He took another bite and chewed, lazily watching as Penny and Carrie exchanged looks.

"Gumball?" said Penny, glancing between him and the half-eaten napkin. "Is there . . . uh, anything you want to talk about? 'Cause if there is, I'll try to help any way I can."

"Me too," said Carrie, and she put down the plate she was holding and slid it in front of Gumball. "Chocolate mint cake? Better than a napkin, I bet."

Sighing, tossing the rest of the napkin aside, he sat up and said to Penny, "Thanks, but no thank you."

To Carrie, "Thank you, but no thanks."

And then, without saying anything else, he walked away from the two girls, feeling their gaze in the back of his head as he went.

* * *

><p>The playground at recess was noisy with kids running back and forth, playing alone or in groups, using up their enegery on things like Four-Square, jump rope, or talking with friends. They laughed, joked, and then played some more, repeating the process as children liked to.<p>

Gumball shook his head at them. So clueless... Didn't any of them see the pointlessness to their playtime? The repetitiveness? Don't they ever stop to think, to observe, to wonder if they were just wasting their time?

So clueless . . . and yet, so lucky . . . so blessed. . . .

When the bell rang, everyone ceased their playing and rushed back into the school, eagerly making their way to the gymnasium. Gumball watched them go until he was the only one left on the playground, the pleasant laughter replaced by the sound of empty swings, moving back and forth, creaking on their chains.

Heaving a sigh, Gumball pushed himself up from the bench he had resolved to sit in for his half hour of freedom. His throat felt, all of a sudden, very tight.

All alone in the school's shadow, Gumball glanced up at the blue sky, having never appreciated it like he did now.

It was an odd thing: though the sky is always changing, very few people find it exciting to look up at the great mass, into that neverending stream that never falls or dries out. It may storm, it may change color, it may even hide itself behind a curtain of clouds, but no matter what, the blue sky is always faithfully present, unaffected by time or the mundane existence of those beneath it.

Even after so many repeats, Gumball still found something lively about the wide stretch of blue. If only he was a bird so he could rise up and explore it: every height, every sight, flying free and without thought, like a kite. . . .

But he wasn't a bird. He was Gumball Watterson, a blue cat forever doomed to walk the ground, the same ground he and a million, trillion others had walked over a million, trillion times before.

With his head bowed, staring at the worn, blacktop ground, he made his way into the school.

The hallway was empty. When he reached his locker, Gumball heard a door open off to the side. Principal Brown was leaving his office. He carried with him the box which held the prizes for the coffee beans challenge.

Gumball watched him go. When Brown was out of sight, Gumball turned back to his locker and opened it. There, lying motionless in the bottom of the thin space, was the black garbage bag and the outline of the box it held.

He reached in and pulled the bag out, his heart now hammering violently. Trying to ignore the awful ache, Gumball thrust his locker shut. The slam resonated around the hall, and Gumball's cat ears took it like a shout; somehow it didn't drown out his frantic heartbeat. Giving his locker one final affectionate glance, he turned and began to walk.

The seconds in the school hallway felt thick and tanglible. Every single inch of the place was in pristine detail, like a real-life photograph: the smudges on the trophy case, the lopsided drawings and paintings from art class, the bultin board's fliers which nobody ever read, the orange school bell and its blinking eyes. And all the while, Gumball was walking, taking in the details as though they made up for the breakfast and lunch he had missed.

Never before in Gumball's life did he fathom he would consider taking the action he planned on doing. He couldn't understand for the life of him how some people could ever bring themselves to do it; the very idea was downright appalling. Now, however, he thought he had a possible answer — maybe not an excusable one, but still a reason.

In the long run, a person's experiences are what make them who they are and how they live. Naturally, those who take joy in their lives often have good upbringings and surroundings to thank: they have good, caring, loyal friends; they have a family who loves them and never lets them forget it; and they are proud of their accomplishments and what they do for others. Those who look down on the world, however, are usually the products of some form of disappointment: poor parents who are either cruel or neglectful; a lack of friends, or so-called friends who don't play the part; a sense of worthlessness because of unintended accidents or unachieved dreams. They have so much sadness and bitterness pushed upon them that they start to question why they allow themselves to feel such pain. No normal person wishes to feel pain, after all; it's a fact that we go out of our way to avoid suffering: the dread of physical agony, the weighty torment of depression, the anguish that we live in a world which never seems to change.

Their very existence becomes the worst sort of misery. They strive and search for a cure, sometimes in the form of a loved one who can give comfort, from a friend who can show encouragement, or through an occupation to which they can find some closure, some sense of meaning to this dark and lonely place.

Some, luckily, manage to find it, and they learn to see the world as full of new potential. Others only delve deeper into despair. The days seems to repeat themselves, never bringing hope that tomorrow will make things better. Tomorrow's only an abstract concept, after all. It never truly comes.

And unfortunately, because Gumball's current existence _was_ only one day in which nothing changed and nothing could be done about it, it was painfully clear which kind of person he would be labeled as.

He closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose. As the air filled his lungs, he felt the muscles stretch underneath his favorite sweater.

He ran his fingers down one of the sleeves, appreciating the soft fabric. Even before the Loop had taken hold, he had worn this sweater hundreds of times before, and even now he couldn't imagine any other he would want to wear. It was meaningful to him, as personal as his own fur and skin, and it meant something to be wearing it now. . . .

At last, Gumball reached the open doors of the gym and he stopped. Students were gathered on the bleachers. He could see Penny, sitting and holding her pom-poms with the other cheerleaders. She seemed down, the way she was staring at the floor as the others looked on with excitement.

Above her on the bleachers, he could see Carrie, also looking a little gloomy, or at least Gumball thought so. It was hard to tell when her daily demeanor was usually so calm and mellow.

And there, sitting beside Rachel, was Darwin and Anais, and there was no doubt that the two were feeling quite low, judging by the way they sagged forward, their arms pressed to their knees.

Gumball stopped breathing and stared at them for several seconds. His heart was beating so hard that he thought his ribs would soon fracture.

_What do you think you're doing? _a voice in his head cried. _Your going to hurt them! How can you think of doing this? They're going to be hurt!_

Self-hatred piled inside Gumball like a stomach ache and he gripped tighter on the black bag.

He couldn't. . . .

But . . . what other choice was there? There was no way out . . . there was no escape, no chance for change. And they . . . his family and friends . . .

His hand moved to his shoulder, the shoulder with the black Loop mark, which no longer twindged or felt numb and blunt, but was, still, undoubtably there.

Gumball's head flooded with memories, and he was suddenly back to that first day — _this_ day. His mother yelling, his father crying, his sister scowling, his brother fuming — everyone around him so angry and hateful, their horrible faces burning him like red hot steel.

Gumball sucked in a dry gulp of air, and felt stupid at the moisture building in both his eyes.

Then, all of a sudden, a roaring cheer filled the school and Gumball jerked, looking in through the gym doors.

The Pep Fest had started. The football team entered at the gym's other side, shouting and wooping.

After they finished their wild little demonstration of ramming each other's skulls, Rocky paraded around the gym, tossing candy, glow sticks, and frisbies from a black garbage bag, not that different from the one Gumball was holding.

The friendly school-worker looked happy and full of energy, as eager for the Pep Fest as the surrounding students.

Then there came Penny. She and the other cheerleaders performed, jumped, flipped, and landed in one graceful pose.

The cheering filled the school again. Everyone looked so happy, even Miss Simian, who was giving a mean little smirk. Darwin, Anais, Rachel, and Carrie were applauding and cheering, contributing to the joyful noise of which Penny was a part of.

And somehow, Gumball felt peaceful. He had watched this a thousand times before, but this time it felt fresh, standing alone outside this door, not being part of the celebration. . . .

It didn't matter that he wasn't there; the people still cheered, they still smiled and had a good time. His absense made no difference at all.

Through the threshold, he watched Principal Brown walk over to the gym's center, holding a microphone.

Gumball closed his eyes, his grip tight on the black bag.

It was time, he told himself. Time to go. . . .

He took a deep breath that filled his lungs like lead, but when he exhaled, it seemed to liberate them, prepared him for what was about to happen.

He opened his eyes and, with a steady face, walked slowly in.

* * *

><p>The gymnasium quieted at the sight of Principal Brown. Nobody paid much attention to the fact that Gumball had just entered. But Darwin and Anais noticed, and then Penny and Carrie, and then Rachel, who only noticed because of the shift in Darwin's eyes.<p>

For a moment they thought Gumball was just running late and coming up to join them, but, instead, he walked to the center of the gym, to where Principal Brown was standing and whispered something in his ear. Everyone looked on in quiet curiosity. They could all tell this was not part of the scheduled event.

Principal Brown seemed reluctant at whatever Gumball had said to him, but then Gumball whispered something else, more insistantly. This time Principal Brown seemed to consider, his furry eyebrows raised.

Through the microphone, held near his concealed mouth, everyone heard Brown quietly mutter, "Well . . . I guess some additional spirit will be okay." With a shrug, he handed Gumball the mircophone and walked back to sit beside Miss Simian in the bottom row.

And there Gumball stood, in front of the whole school, the mircophone in one hand and a black bag in the other.

"What's he doing?" Anais whispered.

"I don't know," Darwin whispered back.

Gumball's heart was beating so fast now he didn't understand how speaking would be possible, but he somehow managed it.

"Hey, Elmore!" he said with great enthusiasm, regardless that he felt completely the opposite. "I don't know about all of you, but I, for one, am stoked for tonight's game as our Mustangs take on Seymore! WHOO!" he bellowed.

The football players all bellowed back, "YEAH!"

"Now, as we have seen from our lovely cheerleaders—," he smiled over at the girls holding pom-poms, all of whom smiled back, "—every bit of spirit counts towards leading our great team and school to victory. And thus, I thought I'd lend my spirit in a rather _unique_ way. So . . ." He dropped the garbage bag to the ground, where the contents rattled. With his free hand, Gumball bent over and reached inside. "In honor of our Mustangs, our school, and by some miracle that we actually win tonight, I will now eat this entire box —"

He paused for effect. And then, in a flash, he pulled out a container . . .

"Of rat poison!"

The excited faces that had built from Gumball's words fell with confusion.

"Or as much as I can before it kills me," he finished quickly.

And then, dropping the microphone onto the floor, Gumball ripped off the box's top, took one last deep breath, and tipped the box over his open mouth. Green, nasty smelling pellets started to pour out.

Gasps and screams erupted through the room.

"Gumball, stop!" he heard Darwin and Anais cry. But he didn't stop.

The bitter pellets filled his cheeks and stung his tongue. But Gumball continued to gulp, swallowing in choking amounts, neverminding the horrible swelling that grew in his stomach.

All around he could hear the bleachers rattle and screech, melding with the screams that seemed to explode inside his head.

And then, without any sort of warning, Gumball felt every nerve in his body shudder and he fell to the gym floor. The remaining rat poison spilt out onto the ground beside him.

Groaning, Gumball's throat felt blocked. Oxygen couldn't seem to flow as smoothly, and his muscles felt so heavy he could hardly move his fingers.

His sight started to blur. Like emerging through fog, a number of faces came into view, all looking horrified, their colors familiar: pink, orange, brown, white. Then more faces and more colors. . . . Their voices came through in fragments, though Gumball could tell that most were shouting his name, alarmed, almost pleading.

Then, as though a thick veil had fallen over his face, everything turned to black. He was blind.

The sounds around him started to distort. The cries muffled and warped, falling farther into a deep pit until they too vanished.

All he could feel now was the cold, hard floor. His heart, once beating so strong, was now slow and weak, and Gumball no longer held the strength to breathe.

With no sight, no hearing, and his sense of touch going with every second, he thought this dark, numb feeling was all that remained of him. Pure Nothingness would surely come after.

But . . . something different happened. Something completely unexpected. . . .

Gumball was three years old again and was sitting on his mother's lap, outside on the house's front porch. She had her warm, protective arms around him; she was nuzzling his cheek, smiling as her son giggled.

Then he was with Darwin, both their current age, playing and laughing in the backyard on a bright summer's day.

He was nine. He and his Dad were playing video games on the couch, both whooping as their thumbs pounded the controllers.

He was ten, outside on the front lawn. He was making baby Anais giggle with her brand new Daisy the Donkey.

Gumball inhaled a strangled gasp.

Why . . . why was he seeing all this now? What force had dragged these memories out into the open? Why did these happy images have to the last things he ever saw?

But before Gumball's mind could fathom an answer, he felt the pulse within himself come to a halt and he could do nothing but lay there, motionless as all his thoughts and memories faded into a black haze.

He was there yet not there. He was aware without knowing how. He was without body or any direction. He was limp. He was still.

He was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22<strong>

_No Way Out_

With a deep, strangled gasp, Gumball sprang awake in his bunkbed as a familiar buzzing noise went through his ears like a gunshot.

Wided-eyed and panting, he gripped his hands around his throat, and was amazed at how little effort it took to breathe. The pain had been so heavy; it had been real. . . .

Confused, he looked down at the blankets covering his legs, then across to where the buzzing alarm read 6:20 with its bright green numbers. He was back in his bedroom, wearing his night clothes, when, but a moment before, he had been lying on the gym floor, dressed in his sweater and pants. . . .

Ignoring the alarm clock, Gumball gave his arm a strong pinch. He winced at the sharp pain.

He was alive . . . his heart was beating . . . and he was back at the start.

After the mundance routine of plates, ties, advice, grades, cakes, and other meaningless nonsense, the exciting thrill of the Pep Fest came to a sudden halt when a strange sight appeared at the gymnasium's open doors.

The students and faculty couldn't see who it was at first. All they could hear was somebody straining and breathing heavily. A few moments later revealed a pair of blue hands and matching blue cat ears. It was Gumball Watterson.

He was struggling to push an old-fashioned bathtub towards the center of the gym. It was full of sloshing water, which leaked over the sides as Gumball heaved it forward, its taloned legs scraping the thick wooden floor.

When the tub had reached the center of the large room, Gumball quickly regained his breath, walked over to Principal Brown, and held out his hand for the microphone. At first, Brown refused, but after a whole minute passed at Gumball's stubborn insistance, the confused principal awkwardly handed the microphone over and took his seat by Miss Simian on the bleachers.

". . . so, to show my spirit for our school and our fine team," Gumball said, motioning to the football players, "I will break the third rule of the Three Rules of Three."

He patted the rim of the bathtub. "As we all know, a person can go three weeks without food, three days without water, and three minutes without oxygen. So, to show my school spirit, I will submerge my head into this tub for three whole minutes and come out perfectly fine. Rocky, set the timer, please!"

Everyone turned to look up at the scoreboard, where a 3 minute timer appeared.

Back in the middle of the gym, Gumball, still holding the microphone, gripped the sides of the tub, and, with a determined look, yelled, "FOR ELMORE!"

The football players roared with YEAH! and RIGHT ON!

Then, taking one very deep breath, Gumball plunged his head down. There was a loud splash as water flowed over the edges, and then silence as the scoreboard's timer began to count down.

Over on the bleachers, Juke pressed a button on his boom box of a head and a suspeceful tune filled the gym.

The students watched with avid attention. Miss Simian was beaming and had her fingers crossed.

Others, notably Darwin and Anais, watched with worry, not knowing what to think. Where did their brother get the idea to do this, and why? Where did he find a bathtub in the middle of a school day? And what was more, unless Gumball had a trick up his sleeve and this was all just an elaborate trick (which they doubted given Gumball's usual recklessness), Darwin and Anais weren't sure if anyone could go without air for three whole minutes. Darwin, being a goldfish, knew how much non-gilled people valued oxygen and that they wouldn't last long without it. One minute alone would be enough to cause suffocation. And Anais, given her intelligence, knew Gumball had as much chance of lasting three minutes underwater as their family had at winning the lottery.

Half a minute passed before bubbles started to appear on the surface of the tub's water. Gumball's hands seemed to tighten on the tub's brim and his body became rigid.

The suspensful music intensified, as did everyone's attention.

More bubbles began to appear. Gumball's body jerked slightly, but still his head remained beneath the surface. Or rather he forced it to stay there. . . .

No more bubbles appeared.

The next moment, Gumball's whole body became relaxed, and, with every eye still on him, his hands slipped from the tub's brim. He dropped the microphone onto the floor and his arms hung limp, his head still under the water. . . .

The music coming from Juke slowed . . . warbled . . . and faded. . . .

Every face in the gym began to falter. Penny dropped her pom-poms without taking her eyes off Gumball. Carrie seemed to go even whiter.

"Uh . . ." came the robotic voice of Bobert, breaking the silence like a scream. Everyone in the gym turned to him. "Is his heart stopping part of the act?"

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22<strong>

_No Way Out_

A droning buzz emerged out of what seemed like a deep, dark tunnel. At first muffled, as though submerged in water, its volume grew until . . .

Gumball gave a very loud gasp, glanced in every direction, and then felt his face. Besides a little sweat, it was perfectly dry.

He fell back onto his pillow, groaning in frustration.

About an hour later, he stood outside on the sidewalk with Darwin and Anais. He hadn't spoken a single word from the moment he left his bunkbed, nor had he eaten anything for breakfast. His heart was also strangely steady, regardless of what he planned on doing.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of the yellow school bus, coming up fast as it always did, the way he knew Rocky liked to drive it.

Gumball stopped breathing. His hands were clenched. The bus was getting closer, its speed only slowing down ever so much.

Gumball's lips pressed tightly together. Then, without warning, he stepped forward onto the road.

Several things happened in two short seconds. Anais and Darwin screamed in fright. A set of heavy breaks let off a loud screech. Gumball's sight flooded with the color yellow, a mountain of force stuck him in front, and the entire world went out like a shattered light.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22<strong>

_No Way Out_

A painful gasp and a buzzing alarm filled Gumball's ears, but he didn't pay the latter the slightest bit of attention. For a brief, horrible second, the entire front of his body was screaming as though every bone was horribly broken. It was so painful that, when it disappeared inexplicably the next second, Gumball felt bewildered and, strangest of all, a little disappointed.

A couple minutes into the morning, Nicole began searching through the lower kitchen cabinets while Darwin and Anais sat down at the table, pouring themselves bowls of Daisy Flakes.

Nicole walked up the stairs and stopped an excited Richard, sporting his new red neck tie, which, amazingly, was tied very neatly.

"Richard, dear? Did you take the toaster again?"

"Huh?" said Richard. "No, I didn't. But I think I saw Gumball with it, though."

"Gumball?" she said.

"Yeah. Just as I left our room, I saw him go into the bathroom with—"

All the lights in the house flickered. A loud crackle of electricity hummed through everyone's ears, and when it died, the house was plunged into shadows.

"What the —" said Richard, staring around, bewildered. With a few sniffs, he added, "Hey, Nicole? Is something burning?"

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22<strong>

_No Way Out_

Gumball awoke twitching. His skin seemed to be crawling with cockroaches, their many legs violently skittering up his arms, over his legs and to his toes, in and out through his skin. After a second, the odd feeling vanished.

Gumball growled, threw his blankets off with a tearing force, and went to pound the alarm clock into silence.

"Hey, Tina! Down here!" Gumball bellowed, drawing the attention of everyone in the school hallway.

The eight foot tall t-rex turned her head and looked over her non-existent shoulder. Her dark eyes fixed upon Gumball like two cold, black stones. It did nothing to wipe away Gumball's wicked smile.

"I just thought you'd like to know what I think of you, Tina!" he shouted. "I think you're a big, stupid, ugly freak who likes eating out of toilets!"

The hallway filled with gasps. Even tough-girl Jamie, who stood next to Tina, backed away from her best friend, her teeth gritted with worry.

Tina growled menacingly and stomped closer Gumball, who stood staring up at her without a trace of fear in his smug face.

"And do you want to know what else?" he shouted. "Your father is so ugly that whenever he comes home from work, the rush hour speeds up to get away from him!"

Tina's razor teeth bared like a hundred pale knives.

"And that's not all! Your mother is so fat, every time she goes to watch baseball, they use two stadiums! One for the game, and one for her!"

Tina was visably shaking now. Her dark eyes seemed to glow red.

"Want another?" Gumball's voice shook with mad delight. "Your butt is so big, everytime you lean forward, half the world disappears!"

The tension in the hall was so thick now, hardly anyone could breathe. They had their backs pressed flat against the walls. Teri had actually managed to squeeze herself in between two lockers.

Gumball thought he could hear people whisper him desperate warnings, but he ignored them. His sight remained fixed on the horrifying, enraged t-rex.

"And you want to know something _else_ else?" Gumball was screaming now, and he took a step forward so that he and Tina were literally a foot apart. "EVERYBODY HERE — AT SCHOOL — THINKS YOU'RE A BOY! That's right, a _boy, _you leather-faced, sewage-bathing, fart-smelling, tar-breathing, foot-mashing, door-wreaking, fork-fingered, Godzilla-impersonating, dirty, smut-faced, moronic, knuckle-dragging, gigantic prehistoric chicken!"

Tina let out a roar so ear-splitting that Gumball felt his eardrums pop.

All he remembered next was a lunging of many sharp, yellow teeth, and then a wet feeling as everything went dark. He heard a loud gulp, and he seemed to fall down a long, slimy hole, into a black abyss.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22<strong>

_No Way Out_

Gumball woke up, eyes wide and scared out of his mind. A second later, after looking around, he let out a roar of frustration to match Tina's, banging on the bedsheets with his blue fists.

At recess, Gumball approached Hector on the blacktop. He tapped the side of the giant's purple, SUV-sized foot.

A heavy shifting noise came overhead as Hector turned to look down at Gumball, now engulfed by his looming shadow.

In his low voice, he asked, "Yes, Gumball?" His voice shook half of Elmore.

Gumball, his expression neutral, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened his eyes again, and said, "Your mother is so short that she needs elevator shoes to ride an elevator."

A second of silence, and then Hector let out a roar that shook the whole of Elmore as though it were struck by an earthquake.

Gumball stood where he was, feeling quite bored, his eyes half open.

A large shadow stretched out and eclipsed the blacktop. Looking up, Gumball saw that Hector had raised his monstoursly large foot directly over him.

Gumball didn't flinch as the foot fell, nor did he do anything afterwards when Hector made all of Elmore shake again.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22<strong>

_No Way Out_

**(anyone getting tired of this yet?)**

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ, the alarm let off its cry, and so did Gumball as he screamed himself hoarse into his pillow.

An hour into the morning, he knocked on the Fitzgerald's door. A little antlered peanut girl answered, and beamed when she saw who it was.

"Hi, Mr. Blue Kitty Cat!"

"Hi, Penny's sister," said Gumball. "I'm hear to pick up Mr. Cuddles."

Penny's sister frowned. "Huh?"

"I asked Penny if I could use Mr. Cuddles for something today at the Pep Fest. She might not have told you."

At mention of the Pep Fest, the little girl's face brightened. "Oh, the Pep Fest? You're going to help Penny?"

"That's right," lied Gumball. "Can I have him now? I need to get to school."

"Okay. Just a minute!" She ran back inside the house. A minute later, she returned, holding a clear plastic carrying case about the size of a lunchbox. Gumball repressed a shudder.

Inside the case was a large, hairy, black spider. Its legs were long and bent at the joints. Eight horrible black holes stood at the front for its eyes, and underneath those black holes of death were two long, horrible, hairy fangs.

"Here you go, Mr. Blue Kitty Cat," said Penny's sister, smiling as though the poisonous creature inside were a cute puppy. But when she looked up at Gumball, she frowned slightly. "You okay?"

It took all of Gumball's willpower to grab the handle without screaming. When he took hold of the box, the spider inside made a kind of lunge as though desperate to bite Gumball. Its legs were skittering at the plastic wall.

"Thanks," said Gumball, shaky with a gulp. "You'll have him back after the Pep Fest."

"Okay," she nodded. "Bye bye, Mr. Blue Kitty Cat! Oh! And just so you know," she smirked, then added in a sing-song tone, "Penny has your picture under her pillow."

For a moment, Gumball forgot that he was holding an angry, poisonous spider.

A few moments more, he simply said, "Oh," and without another word, he began the walk to school — a vicious, caged spider in his hand, and a feeling of inexpressible warmth in his heart.

At the Pep Fest, Principal Brown was interrupted in midsentence as Gumball approached and convinced him to hand over the microphone.

Penny frowned, wondering what it was Gumball wanted to say in front of the school. But then her eyes fell on the clear box in Gumball's hand, as well as the familiar creature clawing inside it.

"Mr. Cuddles?" Penny said, her eyes widening.

She didn't understand. What was Gumball doing with her pet tarantula? And why did he appear so calm? Gumball was deathly afraid of spiders, and for good reason. Penny hadn't forgotten the last time he came into contact with Mr. Cuddles, how he ended up in the hospital with a serious case of swelling and blisters — all from one tiny bite.

"Attention, everyone," said Gumball, sounding remarkably bored. "Attention. Look over here."

And then, to Penny's shock, Gumball opened the box and pulled out the struggling spider. He winced at the sight of the creature, and then. . . . Penny dropped her pom-poms. Gumball had placed Mr. Cuddles onto his neck, where the spider sank its fangs down hard.

"Gumball!" Penny screamed. She leapt off the bleachers and ran forward, her heart beating as though it would burst.

Gumball was turning pale by the time Penny reached him, the spider still clinging to his neck. Penny grabbed hold of Mr. Cuddles and pulled him away as Gumball fell to the floor. Throwing her pet back into his case and closing it shut, she knelt down in desperation as Gumball's breathing became ragged.

"Gumball? Gumball!" Penny cried, not knowing what to do other than hold his hand.

From behind, amongst the panic chatter, Penny heard footsteps and looked up. Darwin, Anais, and Carrie were now at her side, all looking as horrified as she felt.

"Gumball!" she cried again. Her eyes were now wet.

Gumball's breathing was coming in gasps. His hands were contorted as though paralyzed. And then, with one final slow breath and a twitch, Gumball became quite still, leaving Penny beside Darwin, Anais, and Carrie, all four of them unable to breathe as they stared back into Gumball's open, unseeing eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22<strong>

_No Way Out_

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ. Growl, grinding teeth, stomp-stomp-stomping down the stairs.

Gumball entered the kitchen, and before his mother could shout or blather about her broken plate, Gumball snatched it out of her hand and slammed it down to the floor. It shattered into a million worthless little pieces.

Nicole stared aghast.

Smirking coldly, Gumball kicked the pieces aside.

Alarmed, Nicole glared and snarled. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Treating junk as junk should be treated," he answered back with a smirk.

"Junk? _Junk_? That _plate_," Nicole spat, "belonged to my grandmother, as you very well know! So, would you mind telling me why it was broken before _you_ broke it even more?"

"I got hungry last night and didn't care," said Gumball, calm in the face of Nicole's burning anger. "Oh, hi, Darwin. Morning, Anais. Morning, Dad."

"Hey . . ." the three of them said warily. They had appeared around the doorway, curious at the smashing noise they heard from upstairs.

"What's going on?" asked Anais.

"I'm doing as you asked, sis, and letting Mom know what I did to her plate. And speaking of those plates . . ." Gumball jumped up to the cabinet and pulled it open.

Humming a merry tune, he grabbed another china plate and dropped it. It struck the floor and broke.

Shocked, Darwin, Anais, and Richard's mouths fell open.

Nicole's shocked expression faded quickly to one of tightly clenched teeth.

"Oh, come on, Mom," said Gumball, chuckling. "They're just plates."

He took another dish and broke it against his knee.

"Gumball!" growled Nicole, her fists clenched and shaking. Richard eyed her cautiously.

"What's wrong?" Gumball asked teasingly. "Got too much on your _plate_? Here, let me help." He took two china dishes and smashed them together.

"Gumball!"

He threw one against the wall.

"_Gumball_!"

He took a larger one, rubbed it _slowly _over his tail and his rear, gave a very bemused sigh . . . and then dropped it.

"GUMBALL!" Nicole's teeth were so tightly clenched that her words came out muffled. Her pupils had shrunken to pinpricks and gleamed with bloodthirst.

Off to the side, Richard, Darwin and Anais watched, equally shocked and horrified.

"OPA!" shouted Gumball happily, smashing plate after plate. "OPA! OPA! The Greek-say-OPA!"

Nicole was literally breathing smoke. She shook as though she were having a controlled seizure. Her blue fur was starting to turn red. . . .

"Op—Opps!" said Gumball, shrugging happily. "I guess that's all of them." He looked down to the floor, now covered in porcelin shards, and his eyes widened slightly. "Wow, those were a lot of plates. Better get cleaning, Mom. Mom?"

Nicole, her face so rigid it might soon tear, closed her eyes and breathed strangled growls.

Then, out of nowhere it seemed, an alarm horn began to blare.

Richard gasped. "OH NO!"

Without warning, he grabbed Gumball, Darwin, and Anais in his large pink arms and ran for his life out of the house, throwing his children into the car. The alarm horn was still blaring, getting louder and louder.

"Dad, what's going on?" shouted Anais, now looking scared.

"No time!" Richard shouted as the car roared into life. "We have to get out of here, now!"

He ripped out the driveway and slammed his foot onto the accelerator, shooting down the street like a racecar without brakes.

Meanwhile, the Watterson's kitchen started to melt. A vicious, ferocious, uncontrollable force was seething with rage, breathing in and out menacingly. The floor beneath Nicole's feet was now charred and black. Her fur was burning red and the air around her was distoring terribly. The alarm horn continued to blare, growing more frantic.

Through the window of his living room, Gaylord Robinson came running to see what all the racket was about. His eyes fell on the Watterson's kitchen, where he saw Nicole through the window.

And then, unable to contain her rage any longer, Nicole opened her mouth, and out came a terrible, inhuman roar.

Sighing grumpily, Mr. Robinson slapped a hand to his forehead and muttered, "Okay. This is _really_ getting old."

With that final word, the Watterson's house exploded in a bright, deafening flash.

A second of blinding white light, and then, from where the Watterson's house had stood, an enoromous wall of intense heat began to spread outward like a tidal wave. Houses were ripped to splinters, trees shmoldered to black ash, flesh and bone disintegrated, and a car that was speeding away was caught in the explosion, of the fury that Gumball had made his mother unleash.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22<strong>

_No Way Out_

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ.

Gumball shot up in his bed, which, like the rest of the house, was whole again and undamaged.

Shaking with anger and grinding his teeth, Gumbal hopped down to the floor, stomped across the room, and slammed his fist down hard on the alarm clock. It fell off the dresser and landed on the carpet where it laid quiet and still.

"Okay, that's it!" he growled. "Forget living. Forget dying. Forget sleeping! I'm waiting this day out! I'll _see_ tomorrow come!"

Angerly, he ripped opened his closet and stuffed on his clothes. Anais and Darwin watched him from the side, startled by the hositility in their brother's actions.

"GUMBALL!" Nicole shouted from downstairs. "Get down here!"

Grumpy and annoyed, Gumball obeyed and headed downstairs. He stopped when he reached the middle step, surprised by what he saw in the living room.

Mr. Robinson was standing at the open front door with Gumball's mother. He had his arms crossed and was dressed in a bright pink bathrobe — kind of like the one Nicole was wearing, only more fluffy.

Gumball's anger deminished. He didn't understand. Why was Mr. Robinson here? It couldn't be a new day. His mother was holding her broken china plate and everything was playing out as normal.

"What did you do this time?" asked Nicole angerly.

"Keep your head cool, Missy, it's okay," said Mr. Robinson in a calm but no less grouchy voice. "I just want a private word with your son."

With a nod, Nicole began her way towards the kitchen, but not before stopping beside Gumball and saying, in a furious whisper, "When you're done talking, you come _right_ into the kichen, young man! I want a private word with you myself!" And, giving her broken saucer a little flick, Nicole walked off.

Gumball stepped outside onto the house's porch with his neighbor. The morning was cool with bright sunshine. Closing the front door, Gumball turned to Mr. Robinson. He looked crabby as usual, though his furry pink bathrobe seemed to put off any serious attitude he might've hoped to display.

"Has Larry fallen off his bike yet?" Gumball asked boredly.

"Of course he has," grumbled Mr. Robinson. "But nevermind that."

The old puppet stood before Gumball and looked him square in the eye through his large square glasses.

"Kid, will you _please_ quit stringing yourself up! If the first time wasn't enough of a hint, let me tell you right now: it's-not-working! That last one you did . . . " Mr. Robinson gave a low whistle and shook his head. "Kid, let me say, your mother can _really _blow her stack!"

"Yeah, I know," said Gumball with a small grin. "What was it like for you, coming back to life?" he asked, curious to hear another person's view on the matter.

"Well, after getting over the feeling of being vaporized and then brought back together in one piece. . . no harder than waking up, really."

"Oh . . ." said Gumball dully. "Well, that's boring."

"Nevermind if it's boring! Just listen!" said Mr. Robinson, his tone serious again. "Kid, you're going about this the wrong way. You've gotta take a different approach. Stop and think—"

"Thanks, but I did that already!" said Gumball curtly. "I did everything you suggested! I tried mending my mistakes _and_ tried learning whatever there was to learn! And, in case you haven't noticed, it's _still_ Monday! None of the stuff you told me to try has done _anything_ to get me out of here!"

"Yeah, well neither has deep-frying yourself or getting eaten by a dinosaur!" retorted Mr. Robinson. "I know this may sound cheesy, but, honest-to-Pete, Kid, doing yourself in _isn't_ the answer here!"

"Maybe not," Gumball shrugged in an I-really-don't-care sort of manner, "but at least it helps cut the day short for me."

"Hey, in case you've forgotten, I'm _also_ trapped here in this Loop of yours," said Mr. Robinson firmly. "And let me tell _you_, these last few Mondays have been horrible."

"Why? You getting sick of chicken alfredo?"

"No! I . . . well, yes, but that's not why it's terrible!"

"Oh, boo-hoo!" sneered Gumball. "What've _you_ got to complain about? I'm the one being yelled at and stepped on! Maybe it's not me that needs to change! Maybe it's everyone else!"

"You think _you're _feeling bad?" Mr. Robinson retorted. "If you had _any_ idea, if you had been alive to see and hear what I have after you put on your stupid little dare devil stunts—"

"Quit changing the subject!" interrupted Gumball. "First we're talking about my problems, then we're talking about your's, and what's the point even? By the next repeat, nothing that happened from my actions or yours will matter! Anything we feel or experience will be like yesterday's trash, because it _never_ happened! So what is there for me to feel bad about, I ask you? _WHAT_?"

Mr. Robinson looked as though he wanted to shout, but instead he merely slapped his hand to his forehead and groaned. He had the appearance of one who was facing a losing battle, or rather a stubborn person who was incapable of understanding.

"Oh, quit grumbling!" said Gumball, irritated. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm done with my 'little dare devil stunts'. I've decided to wait this day out. No fun, no tears, no anything! I'm just going to ignore everything and let my time slip by!"

And before Mr. Robinson could protest (as he was clearly about to), Gumball opened the door, slammed it, and stomped towards the kitchen so he could argue with his mother.

* * *

><p>Gumball wore a grumpy, determined face all day. He ignored his family and their stupid complaints. He blew a raspberry in Miss Simian's direction during the Pop Quiz. He threw Carrie's cake through her transparent face at lunch. He sat through the Pep Fest with a sour frown, his glare stony, his arms crossed. He wanted nothing more than to scream in everyones stupid face, and then stomp on them and laugh!<p>

When the night finally came and his frustrated family had gone to bed, Gumball, still dressed in his sweater and pants, approached the alarm clock in his room.

And there he stayed, completely still, completely silent, refusing to blink for two whole hours, eyeing the numbers change with every minute.

11:55.

He felt his anger and frustration wane a little. It was a tiring job to stay crabby all the time. Maybe this was why Mr. Robinson hardly ever smiles, not out of anger, but exhaustion. . . .

11:56.

The wish that he could've spent this day behaving better reared its ugly head, but Gumball ignored it. It was over and done. Why do people even complain about the past? It is, as they say, _in_ the past. They can't do anything about it, so what good is it to moan?

11:57.

Almost there. . . . Why hadn't he thought of doing this a century ago?

11:58.

Gumball's face split into a wide grin.

11:59.

Here it was. The final minute. It was finally going to end!

15 seconds.

30 seconds.

Gumball gripped the alarm and held it close.

45 seconds.

50 seconds.

Gumball's eyes glittered with glee.

55 seconds.

Almost there! He could see it!

56. . .

Tomorrow! Beautiful, wonderful tomorrow!

57. . .

Rapture, oh rapture! Oh Brave New World!

58. . .

His heart was going to give out!

59. . .

Gumball gave a loud, delighted gasp, and then . . .

. . . .

The alarm, the bedroom, the floor . . . all of it vanished. Even the glow of the green numbers disappeared from Gumball's vision. Absolutely everything was gone.

Gumball tried to turn, to find where this darkness could've come from, but he couldn't move his neck. He tried to bring up his hands, but found that he had no hands. . . . Gumball's heart jerked violently. He couldn't feel any part of his body at all. There was no pulse in his chest, there was no air in his lungs, there was nothing except his thoughts.

Gumball wanted to scream but his mouth wouldn't open. It wasn't there anymore! Nothing was where it was supposed to be! Where were his hands? Where was his face? Where was HE?

It was horrifying. The darkness was more than dark. It didn't just extinguish sight, it extinguished everything, all sound and all feeling. There was no surface, no world, there was nothing, less than nothing. Gumball was little more than desperate thought — an empty, shapeless thing which dangled in an unknown, infinite black ocean. It wasn't sleep, and it wasn't being awake. It was something beyond explaination, beyond knowledge, beyond Life and Death.

And then, without warning, sensation crashed back into him.

First came a blaring buzz, then the top of a ceiling, and then the blankets covering him. His eyes, which had already been open, opened again.

Gumball sprung up in his bed, breathing with fright. His mind felt worn and tired as the sun shined through the bedroom window.

It was 6:20 again, when, but a few moments ago, it was a second to midnight.

The alarm continued its bellow of buzzing, but Gumball did not move. He felt lifeless in his night clothes. Darwin was stirring happily in his fishbowl, unaware that his brother was sitting in the top bunk, staring ahead at the wall, a blank and hopeless expression on his face.

Though he could see, hear, and feel again, Gumball now found it hard to think. Where once there was a desire to escape by whatever means necessary, there was now nothing at all — nothing but the events going on around him: the things people would do before they did them, the words people would say before they said them, and — as permanent as everything else — the undying, ever droning buzz of his alarm clock.

Slowly, he pulled on the collar of his night shirt, just to check, to see. There it was, the black Loop mark on his shoulder. . . . Still there, still black . . . black as the void from which he had emerged.

The bedroom door opened. Anais had walked in, yawning and rubbing her little pink face with her hand, all without Gumball seeing it.

"Hey, Gumball!" she called from below. "The alarm's going off! You still alive up there?"

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and aren't too angry with how long it was. It probably could've been divided, but I felt it would be best to have all the suicide segments in one piece.<strong>

**All comments are welcome.**

**Next time, Gumball is going to show what happens when Life gives you lemons.**


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